As Long As You Love Me
by Vivalatuavita
Summary: Clarke wakes from a coma convinced that the guy that's been reading raunchy novels to her is actually her boyfriend. After Bellamy's guilted into continuing the boyfriend charade, he's willing to do whatever it takes to get Clarke Griffin out of his out of his house and her family out of Arkadia. Bellamy quickly comes to realize that Clarke may just be more than he bargained for.
1. Chapter 1

Clarke Griffin froze in her tracks and cupped her ear. Throaty moans, heavy breathing, and rhythmic grunts came from the other side of Finn's office door. Maybe he was rearranging furniture. No, he wouldn't do that. He wasn't into physical labor. Could be members of the cleaning crew moving things. She'd seen their van parked on the street. But then again, there'd been no sign of them when she got off the elevator.

She stepped closer and listened harder. Half those noises came from a female, and they sounded more like—sex than decorating. Her brain throbbed with indecision. Finn's car was parked out front, but he wouldn't have a woman in there. Would he? No. Of course not.

Clarke cleared the thoughts from her head, took another step closer, and listened again. She'd never had sex in an office but admitted it appealed to her. Later, when she told Finn about this, maybe he'd get turned on and suggest they do it. Who was she kidding? In the seven months, they'd been together, he'd never proposed anything remotely wild. He wasn't a risk taker. At least not in the bedroom. For that reason, the pair on the other side of the door had to be strangers. No need to embarrass them, not to mention herself, because she'd be mortified to confront a couple in the act.

With a deep breath, she commanded her feet to ease back down the hall. Rising to her tiptoes, she took one step backward, as the female half of the lovers spoke in a breathy cooing tone.

"Finn. You've got to stop traveling so much. Two weeks is too long to go without you."

Bile rose in Clarke's throat. What were the chances of another man named Finn doing it in Finn's office? A man who traveled abroad each month? Wait. Finn hadn't been gone. He wasn't leaving until—tomorrow. Then it hit her like a truck. He'd been juggling her with Bree. _She's as stupid as I am. When she thinks he's out of town, he's with me. And vice-versa._

Clarke clamped her hand over her mouth to stop from heaving. _That son-of-a-bitch-low-life-cheating-scum-bag-excuse-for-a-man_. The screams of their mutual orgasm knocked the thought from her brain, and then Scumbag spoke.

"Damn, Bree, you make me come so hard. Starting next month, I'm cutting my travel time down to a week."

"I'm glad. With you gone so often, this past year has been difficult."

Clarke clutched the briefcase she was holding until her fingers numbed, forcing herself to peer around the corner. A flash of butt cheek and she backed up against the wall, out of sight. What an idiot she'd been! When she'd noticed it on the coffee table, thinking he might need it, she'd jumped in her car and rushed to his office.

Finn and Bree's voices returned to normal. Soon they'd come out, and Clarke couldn't face them. No, she had to get out of here, so she willed her body into action and sprinted down the hall, to the elevator, and out of the building.

An hour after witnessing a cheating Finn, she shoved open the door to her apartment and hurled his expensive Corinthian leather attaché to the floor with so much force it snapped open. Papers scattered across the hardwood.

This couldn't be happening. Not again. After her two relationships crashed and burned, Finn had restored her faith in lasting love. He was so affectionate. Patient. Kind-hearted. Perfect.

She fell to her knees, laughing and crying at the same time. God, her brain was on fire. A wave of nausea turned her stomach into a roller coaster ride, and the room spun around her. The laughing and crying evolved into guttural sobs. This couldn't be happening. Not again. She desperately wanted a drink, but no amount of tequila could wash away the image of Finn and another woman that kept replaying in her head, a nightmare loop that just wouldn't stop.

Wiping the tears from her face, she sucked in a long breath, then exhaled as she raked the spilled papers into a pile. The one on top got her attention as she wiped away an errant tear that soaked into the page, blurring a bit of ink.

What was he doing with an offshore bank account in Liechtenstein under his name? Weren't they used for illegal activities? She picked up the stapled document and turned to the next page. Ten million dollars? Not possible. Other than the sporty car he drove, he was the most frugal man she knew. His meager apartment barely had enough seating for more than three people, and his suits came from department stores. No fancy Rolex either. Instead, he depended on his phone for the time. She snapped several pictures on her phone and emailed it to herself, making a note to show it to Marcus and Thelonious later.

Everything that occurred after that had blurred. She didn't remember packing a suitcase, or even getting into her car but somehow that all must have happened because she was flying down the highway headed to only God knew where. One minute, she had stumbled out of her apartment with a duffle of wrinkled clothes and a bag of toiletries. The next, she had turned on the interstate aimlessly, flash bang images of Finn flitting through her head a thousand miles an hour.

She had sworn off love once, and she could do it again. During her rehearsal dinner three years ago, she'd caught her fiancé with her maid of honor in the coat closet and thought that was the worst thing that could happen. How silly she'd been.

Well, chalk one up for the books. Finn was not only a cheater, but a criminal too? Yeah, he took first place in the worst of the worst department. She'd have to go back into therapy.

She should have never let Wells talk her into joining that dating site. But after meeting Finn, the most considerate, dependable, non-judgmental guy on the planet, she'd decided it'd been a good idea.

As if the thought caused it, her phone rang. She glanced down at the screen. Did she really want to talk to him? No. Yes.

"Hello."

"Clarke, love. Where are you? It's my last night in town for a while and I thought I'd take you out for dinner."

Clarke grit her teeth. It only reaffirmed her anger at him. "No," she spat. "You listen to me, Finn. Take your briefcase, leave the key to my apartment on the counter, lock the door behind you, and go back to your other girlfriend. It looked like you were really enjoying her company. I don't ever want to see or speak to you again."

She didn't give him time to respond. She ended the call and tossed the cell onto the passenger seat, spurned that she couldn't emphasize her anger by slamming her phone down on a cradle. There was nothing he could say. She glanced at her surroundings. How long had she been on the road? Her brain burned with so many questions, she'd not paid attention to the time. She checked the clock on the dash. Over three hours since she'd escaped from his office, and he was just now calling her? He must have taken Bree to dinner. Or maybe they'd fucked again. Her stomach clenched at the memory of those lustful sounds. Most of the time with her, he didn't even act that interested.

A clap of thunder made her flinch and brought her from her misery. Up ahead, a neon sign flashed Food, Gas, Beer. She wheeled into the drive. With three lanes and eight pumps, it must be a slow day because other than an extended cab dually covered in mud; she was the only customer. After refueling, she went inside.

The kid behind the counter wearing a bright red vest looked to be about eighteen and miserable. She felt his pain. At that age, she'd been taking orders at the local DQ, despite Abby's protests trying to get her an internship at the hospital. Hard to believe that had only been five years ago. She placed her purchases on the counter.

The boy eyed the customer standing behind her. "Be right with you, sir."

Clarke glanced over her shoulder at the tall, lanky dude. Oily hair hung from beneath his cowboy hat. One cheek poked out like a hamster storing food. Yuck.

The clerk rang her sale and grinned. "You need a bag for this?"

She smiled. "No thanks."

On the way out, the magazines display by the entrance caught her eye, but then she remembered the two unfinished romance books she started months ago. She was pretty sure she'd packed them. Not that she wanted to read about love. Murder would be more like it.

As she reached the door, the cowboy pushed it open.

"Need help with that, sugar?"

She cut her eyes toward him and leveled him with a withering glare Medusa would be proud of. "It's just a bottle of water and a candy bar. I think I can manage, thanks."

"Sorry, sugar. Never been able to resist a pretty little princess like yourself." Clarke flinched at the usage of her old nickname, but he couldn't have known it hit so close to home.

"Just passing through or visiting?"

Shit. Clarke wondered for the umpteenth time if she had a sign on her forehead saying: ' _Give me your weird, your poor, your huddled rednecks yearning to hook up with Clarke Griffin. Send these, the toothless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my skirt beside the golden Volkswagen!'_

Mmm. Better not let him think she was alone. "I'm visiting. My Aunt. Over in the next town."

"Polis?"

"Uh, yeah." Wherever that was.

He scratched at his greasy beard with oil stained fingers."What's her name? I might know her."

Clarke's mind raced. All she wanted to do was jump in her car and drive away from the tobacco-chewing-goat-roper, putting as many miles between them as possible. "Minerva. Minerva McGonagall."

He cocked his head. Narrowed his eyes.

Clarke held her breath and bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing.

"Nope. Don't believe I know her."

"Well, gotta run. Aunt Minerva and my boyfriend are expecting me."

For the next ten miles, Clarke checked her rearview mirror to make sure Wrangler Joe wasn't following her. How was it she attracted the wrong kind of men? Where were all the BBC Merlin look-alikes? The King Arthur's? The Sir Lancelot's? Hell, even The Prince Charming's? Not in her world for sure.

At a fork in the road, she veered right. So caught up in worry about being stalked, she hadn't paid attention to where she was going. Where the hell was she? This didn't look like the interstate access road.

Fumbling for her phone, she knocked her purse from the passenger seat and dumped the contents onto the floor. Crap. Should've checked her route when she stopped for gas. Not that she had a destination. Only to get out of Atlanta and away from Finn. Pick a direction and go. South was as good as any, and earlier she had crossed the border into Alabama.

She held up the cell. No signal. Trying Google Maps proved fruitless. Off to the left, lights glowed above the treeline. Must be the interstate. It had only been twenty minutes since she'd refueled. Couldn't be too far.

Even though it was only four o'clock, cloud cover made it appear much later. So far, Mother Nature only threatened rain, but from the looks of the sky, a downpour seemed imminent. The last thing Clarke wanted was to get lost in the woods. Well, that was next to the last thing. The real last thing was to go back in time before seeing Finn's white ass and the other blond between his knees. When he'd cuddled with Clarke in front of the fireplace, a mug of hot chocolate in hand, bingeing on chick flicks. Planning ski trips and tropical vacations. Fantasizing about their future. All of it, a lie.

Her chest burned at the thought of telling her family. She could see Abigail Griffin's famous sympathetic expression for another wrong decision. And the list was long. Dropping out of college. Another failed relationship bringing her grand total to three. A lot for her age. But she'd learned a lesson from each. Well, the first two, anyway. Moving in with serious girlfriend number one taught her when cohabiting, always have the other move in. That way, when the relationship ended, they'd be the one to leave, and she'd wouldn't be homeless. Well, she'd never be without a place to stay. She could always move in with her mom. But seeing her disappointment every day would be unbearable. Being in that too-big house surrounded by memories of her father would be even more depressing.

Every phone call ended with her mother passively aggressively expressing how Clarke was _better than this_ and _throwing her future away_. Clarke was the only one in the family without a degree. Her mother was a doctor and her dad had been an engineer. And then there was Clarke, who didn't live up to anyone's expectations.

Then her job history. Or, the _mountain of failure_ as her mother had so eloquently addressed it when Clarke overheard her on the phone with Thelonious one afternoon. Bartending, waitressing, and retail sales had terrible hours. Just the opposite for the teacher's aide position for Art Composition she'd kept for one semester before budget cuts. But being around those kids, she'd stayed sick all the time. And as a customer service representative, listening to people complain all day threw her into a constant state of depression. She'd loved working at the bakery, but the ten pounds she gained warned her of bigger things to come. Like her hips.

She wished Dad was alive. He'd understand heartbreak and indecision. Maybe becoming fatherless at thirteen was the cause of Clarke's problems.

She sniffed and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her shirt. That was all behind her. She couldn't un-ring any of those bells. Besides, she'd fixed the job problem by going to work in Marcus and Thelonious' law office. Didn't take a lot of skill to answer the phone and set appointments. It wasn't what she wanted to do for the rest of her life, but it paid the bills.

At the next street, she hung a left. The lights drew closer, so she must be going in the right direction. Up ahead, through the fine mist, she saw a sign. Couldn't quite make out the letters, but as she turned between two brick columns, it came into focus. Holiday Hills Estate Homes. Winding her way through the neighborhood, it appeared she'd arrived at a Scooby-Doo ghost town. Green lights outlined every rooftop, casting an eerie haze.

She turned onto Mistletoe Lane, then Evergreen Place. Next, she crossed Garland Avenue and Reindeer Road.

Only three days ago kids tricked or treated, but apparently, residents here wanted to be the first to launch the Yuletide season. Or, maybe the decorations were left over from Halloween. She closed her eyes and thought about last week's costume party. Finn's suggestion to dress like Bill and Hillary Clinton had been an amusing idea, but now she wondered if the joke was on her.

A pain twisted in her chest. Should have known then. Lately, he'd been preoccupied, but he always got that way when the stock market fluctuated. She'd thought it was because he felt responsible when his clients lost money, but now, it was quite likely he'd probably been stealing from them while he was cheating on her. She placed a hand on her chest. Breathe. Just breathe.

With two more cleansing gulps, she went back to her primary concern of finding civilization again. No matter how festive, this was the boonies. She pulled to the side of the street and held her phone out the window. Not a single bar. Who the hell lived in a fancy place like this without service? From the look of the houses, these people could pay for a private cell tower.

Great. Just great. She'd made an impulsive decision to leave town without a plan, and now she was lost. It'd be dark soon, and she hated driving at night. Especially in unfamiliar territory.

She rested her pounding head on the steering wheel just as Mother Nature stopped fooling around and unleashed a light show as spectacular as the Fourth of July fireworks she and Finn had attended last summer. Damn. Everything reminded her of him.

Suddenly, rain hammered the car. Thunder cracked the sky. No need to fight the weather. She'd stay parked until the downpour ended. Setting the brake, she dug through the contents on the floor, hoping to find the candy bar she'd bought at the Quick Mart. Nothing like a rainy night and chocolate to ease a broken heart.

At least no one would worry about not reaching her because she'd texted her mom and Wells earlier. Didn't bother with details; no need to burden them with her unhappiness. Not until she could say she was okay and be convincing.

Raking her fingers across the floor again, she latched onto the prize and ripped it open. Mmm. Nougat topped with caramel and peanuts coated in milk chocolate. The first bite gave her a heady rush.

If she could only turn back the clock. Make everything that happened in the last twenty-four hours a nightmare. Once again, she was left disappointed. Well, no more. Instead, she could see this as an opportunity for a fresh start. Things happen for a reason. One door closes, and another one opens. Positive thoughts make the brain form a habit of optimism. At least that's what Dr. Jackson, super therapist, said.

Pushing her neediness aside, Clarke swallowed the last bit of goodness and licked her fingers. Why not? She didn't have to be ladylike for anyone. Not anymore. Her only regret was not buying two pieces of candy. If she could find her way back to the gas station, she'd do that. Stock up and promise herself from now on wasted calories would be her only temptation.

She leaned forward and gazed into the darkness. The rain had stopped. Pulling from the curb, she found the entrance and headed in the same direction from which she came. This time she'd backtrack and take the other choice at the fork.

A gust of wind shook her car. Even though she loved her bug, during storms, she pictured it turning into a giant yellow bowling ball hurling out of control down the highway with her inside. As soon as she escaped the creepy forest, she'd be okay. Get a room for the night and tomorrow she'd decide on a destination. Map a route so she wouldn't get lost again. Running away never solved anything, but she needed a few days to clear her head and adjust to her new resolution.

Someday she would boast with pride how she'd not had sex since the Obama administration. No big deal. Since everyone she'd loved cheated on her, clearly, she wasn't good at it anyway.

Twisting the dial on the radio for an upbeat song to boost her spirits, she landed on a country tune about being a better man. Even the radio mocked her.

What she'd give to talk to dad. He'd always known how to fix everything. Despite the fact they weren't ever really close, Abby had done her best to be both parents, but there were some things only dads understood. She loved Wells' like a brother, but she didn't want to run to him about her pathetic love life again.

Well, she could talk to Wells' wife, Luna, but Clarke had never been close to her. She was nice enough; they just didn't have anything in common except for their love of Wells. And her cousin, Lincoln, well, he'd offer to perform surgery on Finn. Remove the tool from the tool. Even as mild mannered as Wells was, he'd be pissed. Their connection was strong, but this was a problem even her best friend couldn't fix. But since he'd been the one to convince her to get back in the dating arena, he'd feel responsible.

Clarke chided herself. No more pity party. She'd do what every girl did when something traumatic happened - chop off her hair and put on some red lipstick. Maybe a little retail therapy. Change her style, change her life. She might even get a tattoo. Something bold. Yeah, she could pull that off even if the wildest thing she'd ever done was TP-ing the band director's house back in ninth grade for giving the first chair clarinet to his niece, who could barely play Hot Cross Buns.

And sex. If in a weak moment she decided to opt for a one night stand, she'd be shameless. Just get what she wanted. No more sweet little nice girl.

She grasped the radio knob again and glanced away for a second, but that's all it took. By the time she looked up, it was too late. She gripped the steering wheel hard and slammed on the brakes. Her bones turned to stone; muscles stretched tight. Her heart jumped into her throat and strangled her scream. The VW slid to the left. She jerked the wheel, and the car slipped to the right, then spun out of control, flipped, skidded, and as Cher sang, _If I Could Turn Back Time_ , everything went black.

* * *

 **Ah, new story. I will be posting weekly installments so please, if you're into this, add it to your story alerts. I might continue my method with my other fanfics and upload every five days, but definitely expect a new chapter every week. And please, leave a review. It's like candy. And it makes all of us super excited to see something new in our inboxes.**

 **Thank you to my BETA reader, the awesome Tammy (yourmomshouse on ao3). As always, without her, I'd never get anything done.**

 **enjoy xx**


	2. Chapter 2

Bellamy Blake removed his hard hat, glanced in the rearview mirror at his work partner loading the last of the orange traffic cones. When he and Miller restored power, lights flickered back to life like candles at a wedding. Bellamy had stared at them for a moment, a snapshot of Roma popping into his head. It wasn't the first time today he'd thought of her. She'd been on his mind as soon as he'd noticed the date on his cell phone. November 3rd. The day she died.

Miller swung open the door, climbed in and slammed it. "Fire in the wire now."

"Yeah, we got a reprieve today because of the storm, but tomorrow, the weather is supposed to be good, so we'll have to replace a damaged pole on sixty-eight."

"I'm just glad the wind didn't blow it down or we'd have to work all night. Maybe we should drive by there and check it. After that, you wanna grab a beer?"

Getting drunk might be what Bellamy needed to push the blues away. "Sounds good."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You were staring at your phone like it held the secrets of the universe."

Not wanting to rehash his past bad luck, he couldn't truthfully answer that question. Following Roma's death, he'd had all the pity he could handle. Miller and everyone else had hovered for weeks to make sure he was okay. Nope. He wanted no more of that.

"It's my sister. It's barely November, and she's already after me to commit to the Valentine Bid-for-a-Bachelor auction again. I already told her last year was my last time."

"Octavia won't take no for an answer because you raised the most money in the history of the benefit. For the chance of spending another evening with you, I bet Tsing ups her offer this year."

The truck scraped into gear, and Bellamy pulled from the curb. "Wipe that grin off your face. Dr. Tsing is scary. I spent the whole night afraid she was going to pop out a drill and suck marrow out of me."

"Hey, she could be your Sugar Mama and you wouldn't have to climb poles for a living. Hell, she's almost fifty. Let's say she dumps your ass in twenty years, you'll probably still be able to get it up and find someone your own age."

"If you think it's such a good deal, why don't you do it?"

"She ain't got the hots for me."

"What are you talking about? With your resting bitch face, she'll pay big bucks. And, like you said, her money can provide a life of leisure."

"Very funny. With the five thousand she shelled out last year, I think it's clear she prefers you. Besides, I'm dating Monty now."

"Monty Green?"

"Yep. Third date this weekend."

Bellamy landed a jab to Miller's shoulder. There was nothing he liked more than busting his best friend's balls. "I'm just now hearing about this? Hell, three dates with the same guy means you're almost engaged."

"Hilarious," Miller deadpanned, his expression exacting. "I figured you already knew since the school work program has your sister assigned to help Monty."

"No. Lately, O and I don't talk much. Ever since the Atom incident, she's avoided me." Miller always gave him shit about Octavia, but it was easy for Miller to chastise him for acting like O's parent rather than her brother when he never had to raise his own sisters.

"You can't father her through life." Bellamy's expression told him to let it go. Miller held up his hands in mock surrender. "Anyway. Speaking of dating. How long has it been since _you_ had one?"

"Don't know. I don't keep score." Total lie. He knew exactly. Too damn long. Shit, he was almost a monk. But the number Roma did on him caused him to lose faith in dating. "I thought Monty was dating the girl from Biloxi."

"Was, but you know what they say about long distance relationships. They never work."

Amen to that. When Bellamy had left college to take care of his sister after his mom lost her job, Roma fell in with the wrong crowd. He'd always felt guilty about that. Like his leaving caused it.

Miller's voice brought him back to the present. "If you don't get serious about finding a woman, you may have to settle for Lorelei Tsing. Too bad she doesn't have a daughter. You could get a little club sandwich action going." Miller wiggled his brows, then leaned his head back and laughed.

Bellamy was tempted to hit him again, this time harder, but resisted. Better to guide the conversation back to Miller's love life. "A few minutes ago, you were worried about me getting a date, now you've jacked it up to a threesome. I think you're a bit too optimistic about my romance skills. Concentrate on your own orgies."

Bellamy thought of the ring sitting in the back of his desk drawer. He should have gotten rid of it, but didn't. Someday, he'd have it melted down. He cleared his throat. "Anyway, you two sound perfect for each other."

"How you figure that?"

"He's a crafter, and with all those birdhouses you build for the bird watch club, you're a DIY type. You could end up with your own TV show. Get dubbed with one of those cutesy star couple names like Bennifer or Brangelina. You could go by Minty. That has a nice ring."

Miller knit his brows together. "This is the reason I don't tell you shit. You think— damn, look at that."

Lights flashed into Bellamy's peripheral vision from Holly Hills Estates already decorated for Christmas. "This neighborhood starts the season earlier every year. Not even Thanksgiving yet. With all those green lights, it kind of looks like a place the Grinch would live."

"Yeah, rich Grinch. But hey, I say burn baby burn. The more kilowatts they use, the more secure our jobs. Sure you don't want to reconsider Tsing? Look at her house. I bet she's got ten thousand bulbs on that place. A big old mansion for one woman sure seems like a waste. Lounging in her hot tub sounds a helluva lot better than hot sticking a line."

Bellamy gave the truck more gas. The sooner he was past her neighborhood, the quicker Miller would drop the subject. Tsing was a nice-ish woman, and Miller was right. For her age, she looked pretty damn good, but she was nearly the same age as his mom. He turned onto County Road 68. "The pole is just around the next curve."

Miller jerked forward and stared out the windshield. "Fuck, what the hell was that?"

"Looks like an accident." Bellamy gave the truck some gas and sped ahead. Swinging to the side of the road, he shifted into neutral, set the brake and flipped on the hazard lights, then threw the door open, and sprinted away, yelling over his shoulder. "Call 911 and put out the cones! I'll see if anyone's hurt!"

His heart lodged in his throat. No chance a car rolled over like that without the occupants being injured or killed. For safety, he'd parked a distance away, so he picked up his pace. Seconds later—the wreck—a VW resting in the ditch turned on its passenger side, came into view. As he drew closer, the stench of gasoline filled his nostrils. A live wire from a downed pole flickered menacingly nearby.

He slid down the ditch and moved to the wreckage. A young woman was slumped in the driver's seat, motionless. Heart pounding, he reached through the shattered window to check her neck for a pulse. Still alive. He tried the door. Stuck. Reached in and tried to unlock it, but the metal was too damaged.

The sound of boots slapping pavement and the bouncing beam from his flashlight announced Miller's arrival.

"I brought the crow bar."

"Good, but first, let's see if we can get the car upright."

"Are you sure about that? What if she's injured? Movement like that could kill her."

"I smell gas. I don't want this thing to catch fire with her inside if that wire gets any closer."

Miller shrugged in agreement, followed him into the shallow gully and placed his hands above the rear window while Bellamy positioned his over the front. "Okay, on three, push."

Heels digging into soil, they put their weight into it. The bug groaned as it angled, rolling forwards, the four tires thumping to the ground

While Miller made short work of the remaining window glass, Bellamy whipped out his pocket knife, and cut her seatbelt.

"Stick the bar right here," Bellamy ordered.

Once in place, Miller leveraged, while Bellamy put one foot against the car, and yanked on the door. Within a few seconds, it popped free. He slipped one arm under her knees and the other around her waist. As tiny she was, he had no trouble pulling her out.

Blood streamed from her head down both cheeks. He turned to his friend. "Come on. Let's get out of here!"

With Miller on his heels, Bellamy sprinted away with the blonde in his arms, settling her down on a patch of grass safely away from the metal carnage. He missed her soft weight immediately.

"Miss, can you hear me?"

Nothing.

"You're okay. I've got you now."

She made a gurgling sound.

"Miss, the ambulance will be here soon. Hold on."

She moaned and clutched his shirt.

In the distance, sirens sounded, and as Bellamy reached the truck, the VW exploded into flames.

"Holy shit!" Miller shouted, gripping his beanie in both hands.

Bellamy stared down at the woman laid out before him. Her eyelids fluttered, and those big blues held his gaze for a moment. His chest tightened as she stared up at him, her eyes glazed and glassy as she tightened her fingers into his shirt. Even through the blood, she was beautiful.

"I didn't kill Bambi, did I?"

He'd not seen a deer, but that must have been the reason for the accident.

"No."

"Good."

She smiled, made the same gurgling sound again, and then closed her eyes.

His stomach twisted. What kind of woman in her condition worried more about an animal than herself?

* * *

Finn stared at the phone for a split second and then slumped onto the barstool. Things were worse than he'd thought. She'd seen him with Bree. But how? He shook his head and tried to think logically. Okay, if she knew about Bree, then that meant Clarke must have come to the office. But why? Dammit. The briefcase. He'd forgot it at home this morning. And she'd looked inside it.

All he had to do was figure out a way to fix it before Clarke went snooping and decided to turn his ass into the authorities out of anger. Either that or leave the country. That had been his plan all along, but he'd had one last mark to con before he left the states and he couldn't do it without her.

Once accomplished, all scores would be settled. He would have single-handedly screwed all the men who'd ruined his father and put his family in the poor house.

The ridicule he'd suffered from schoolmates when he'd had to move from the million dollar home into a trailer was more than any twelve-year-old should have had to tolerate. Of course, it didn't last. No longer able to afford private school, he left those so-called friends behind. Once dad went to prison, they lost everything.

Mom never worked, so a job for her was out of the question. She still had her looks and a nice wardrobe which eventually, she used to her advantage. Had it not been for the men coming in and out of their lives, Finn and his sister would have starved. Couldn't blame Mom. She did what she had to do.

He ran his hand through his hair. No need to dwell on that now. He had bigger problems. No doubt he could explain away the banking situation, and Clarke would believe him. But Bree was another story. Okay, he could claim a moment of weakness. Beg for forgiveness. Knowing Clarke's past concerning relationships, that probably wouldn't work. She loved him, and once she got over the initial shock, she'd come around. Maybe not initially pardon him for the infidelity, but she wouldn't want to send him to prison. He'd grovel, buy her some flowers and wine and dine her, and she'd be putty in his hands. He would make her think he was sorry and loved her, and they'd go back to the way things were.

He'd give her a few days to cool off, then call her again. In the meantime, he could be with Bree without worry. Damn. That'd be nice because he loved fucking her. The woman knew how to use her body, and there wasn't _anything_ she wouldn't try. He didn't love her, but he sure as hell was addicted to her. He'd even given up all the others for her. And there had been many.

Finding Clarke on that dating site had been a stroke of luck. Fate really was on his side. And setting up that second fake profile had been a real power play. Lonely, eager women looking for their knight in shining armor and he fit the bill. A nice dinner, a good bottle of wine, and they were more than eager to jump in the sack.

Clarke had been the only one who'd made him wait. Hell, he'd invested three months into her before he even got to first base. He'd thought her a prude, then a challenge, and made up his mind he'd get her into bed or die trying. She'd been his biggest con of all. Sweet little prim and proper Clarke. He'd been pleasantly surprised by her enthusiasm when he finally got her into bed - having expected her to be more of a fifties housewives trope who grinned and beared it, but Bree was more willing to do all sorts of depraved things. If tonight's revelations with Bree shocked Clarke, then the things they did in private would give her a heart attack.

But, the scheme was to marry her. It wouldn't work unless he did. Hell, he could stray any day of the week to keep his sex life exciting. He didn't need Clarke for that. She served a much bigger purpose. Her engineer father had found the faults in the pipeline the Collins' had built; the pipeline that later left the town of Delphi completely underwater. Thirty people had perished. Jake Griffin had helped take his dad away, so he'd take Jake's only daughter. Fair is fair.

Jake the Rat might be dead, but it was pure luck that Clarke's godfather was the attorney that worked with Jake to put Finn's dad away, all because his wife had died in the flood. And Marcus loved Clarke like his own. Two birds, for the price of one.

He'd marry her and then leave the country. Never to return. The vows said _until death do us part_ , and Finn took vows seriously.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! I always love reading your comments and even the most simplest ones make my day. It makes all the stress of trying to sit down and just write worth it that people read and actually enjoy it. So thank you. I'm actually so close to finishing this story in my word doc so I'll be uploading a new chapter every five days, like with my previous fics. Expect a new chapter Monday (March 5).**


	3. Chapter 3

As darkness gave way to light, a haze settled over Clarke, and her head buzzed like a fluorescent bulb. She blinked to bring things into focus. Where was she? Lights flashed. Somewhere in the distance, an organ played a catchy tune. She took a breath, sweet and salty aromas competing for her attention.

To the right and left, voices echoed, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. She cupped her ear. Coins jingled. Balloons popped. Bells rang.

Wind swirled at her feet, propelling her forward down a mysterious walkway. On either side, men barking invitations stood in booths outlined in green lights.

A tall, lanky cowboy tipped his hat, spit, then addressed Clarke. "Step right up. Put the basketball in the hoop and win a bottle of water."

Across the aisle, a young kid wearing a red vest drew her attention. He held up a dart. "Bust three balloons and win a candy bar."

She floated to the boy. She'd really like to win that candy but when she reached for the dart, a sharp pain shot up her arm. Something was wrong. Her fingers wouldn't move.

She should go home, but where was her car? Scanning the area, she saw nothing but darkness. Panic rushed up her spine. She turned one way and then the other.

"Ma'am? You're going to feel a little stick," a strange voice said.

Clarke looked back to find the kid and cowboy, but they were gone. In their place, Bill and Hillary Clinton urged Clarke to come closer.

"Knock down three bottles and win a stuffed Scooby-doo," Hillary said. Bill winked. Clarke shook her head. No need trying to throw a baseball since she couldn't hold a dart. No, she needed to find her VW and get out of here.

"Ma'am, can you open your eyes?"

Who was this guy? And why did he want her to open her eyes? They were open. If not, then she couldn't see the striped tent at the end of the corridor. Or the sign. Madam Minerva, magical, mystical, medium.

Just what Clarke needed. A fortune teller could locate the car. But before she headed that way, someone shouted. She turned toward the sound. A baby deer stood in the middle of the walkway as a giant yellow bowling ball hurled toward it.

With pure determination, Clarke ran for the animal, scooped the fawn into her arms and lunged to safety. The baby doe, lying in the dirt, wriggled free and scurried away. Clarke sputtered to clear her mouth of grit and looked up at an outstretched hand. She grabbed onto it, lifted her head to stare into Cher's eyes, and everything went black again.

* * *

Bellamy pulled a blue Henley over his head and tried to pat down his unruly hair. This had been one of the craziest days he'd had in awhile. Started out obsessing over an old girlfriend, and now, he couldn't get a stranger out of his head. And she was a stranger because he knew everybody in Arkadia. Hard not to when he'd lived there all of his life, and the town was just shy of twelve hundred people.

But what out-of-towner came here for no reason? Sure, hundreds poured in during the annual Alabama Peanut Festival, but the remainder of the year it wasn't exactly a hotbed for tourists. She was either just passing through or related to someone.

But even in the middle of the rescue, something had stirred inside him. The way she fisted his shirt and the impression of her soft body against his chest had sent his brain down a carnal path. If only for a split second. And damn if this stranger hadn't brought buried emotions to the surface.

His gut twisted as he popped two antacid tablets, chewed, and swallowed. The accident occurred not far from Holly Hills Estates. Buried somewhere in his sheets, his cell phone rang. He scrambled for the phone and glanced at the caller ID. Raven.

"Hey, Rae. What's up?"

"Are you okay?"

He should have expected the call. She was always one of the first to know everything in town.

"Sure. I wasn't hurt. How is the girl?"

"I wasn't referring to your daring rescue. I was talking about this being November 3rd."

"Is it? Hadn't thought of that."

"Liar. If you want to come over, I have taco soup."

Raven was the Slow Cooker Queen. When it came to preparing food, everything she used was plugged in. She had more important stuff to do, she'd claim, like fixing old junker cars and hacking into NASA.

"Thanks, but I'm good. I'm on my way to The Bunker to meet Miller. What about the girl? Heard anything?"

"Nothing official."

"You couldn't find out anything?"

"A little. Monroe told me the patient was stable. Broken wrist and some head trauma, I think. That's all she knew. Anyway, if you decide you want to talk, I'm here for you. Okay?"

"Appreciate it, but I'm fine. Talk to you later."

"Bell?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you. You know that, right?"

"Love you, too. Bye."

He understood Raven's concern. They grew up together, even lost their virginity to each other before mutually deciding they were better off pretending that never happened. She had a first row seat to many instances of his life. During the months following Roma's death, he'd gone to a dark place. Wasn't so much he'd grieved for her as it was trying to understand how he could have loved such a selfish person. They'd started school together. Been good friends. Began dating in eleventh grade, and by the time graduation rolled around, he'd loved her. More than she loved him.

He shook his head. No. Not going there. Once he'd recovered from the disappointment and disbelief, he swore he'd never let anyone hurt him like that again. He took a minute to drop some flakes into the fish bowl, then grabbed his truck keys, and headed toward the door.

When he opened it, his mother stood on the other side, fist in mid-air, ready to knock. Just what he needed. More concern over the anniversary of his broken heart.

"Hey, Mom."

She rushed forward and threw her arms around him, squeezing him with all her might. "Oh, honey. Are you okay?"

He'd probably go to hell for lying to his mother, but sometimes it was necessary. "How many times do I have to tell you? Roma is the past, and I wouldn't have even remembered it if Raven hadn't mentioned it."

Aurora pulled back and eyed him. "I was talking about the accident. I heard the car exploded."

Shit. "Yeah, it did, but we were far away when that happened."

She patted his cheek, then smoothed back unruly curls as if she were trying to will his hair into the gel slick he'd used to wear in high school. "I don't know what it is about you, but it seems you're always in the right place at the right time. The mayor has already called. The Council is meeting tomorrow night, and he plans to propose another Community Hero Award for you. And Miller, too."

Fuck. He hated that. The last time he'd gotten one, the AP grabbed the story from the local newspaper, and he ended up on the TODAY Show.

He grimaced. "I wish he wouldn't do that."

"Why not? You deserve it. You saved that girl's life. If you and Miller had not come along, she'd have died. So, if the vote passes, you just accept it with the good manners I've taught you."

"Yes, ma'am."

She scanned the room, eyes taking in all the boxes lining the perimeter, then focused on him, again. "Why don't you let me come unpack for you? Honestly, Bell, you've been in this house for eighteen months. I think it's time." She caressed his shoulder, fixing him with that sort worrying look only mother's seemed to perfect. He wanted to tell her not to worry about him, that not unpacking was not due to some sort of underlying psychological trauma. That he was not still wounded over Roma, but that'd be a lie. He'd come to terms with it, but everything left a scar.

"I know," he told her gently. "I haven't gotten around to it yet. Besides, I unpacked everything I need. Dishes. Sheets. Towels. Books. The rest of the stuff isn't necessary."

Aurora placed her hands on her hips, a sure indication she was gearing up for an argument she didn't intend to lose. "Maybe not for survival, but it's the foo-foo that makes a house a home."

He cocked his head. "Guys don't have that, whatever that is."

She shook her finger in his face. "Well, I'm giving you an official Mom Order. Come Christmas, I expect every box to be empty and all three of your Hero Awards sitting on that mantle."

"Two." He wiggled his fingers in the air. "I only have two."

"I'm including the one you're about to get. Besides, do you have any idea how much it irks Diana Sydney every time I refer to you as my son, the local hero. Her son Graham's such a little shit."

"Mom," he signed. "You've got to get over this silly rivalry. I'm sure in next year's baking contest, you'll regain your title."

She perused his bookshelf thoughtfully, probably already planning decor in his head. He wouldn't be surprised if he came home from work one afternoon to find every free inch of space covered in lamps and unnecessary knick-knacks. "I sure hope so. I've been working on a couple of new recipes. I want you to come to the house on Sunday and give them a taste test."

His stomach clenched. By the time she left, he'd be as stiff as a cadaver. "Oh, God. You're not still trying to improve the Bean and Beer Cream Pie, are you?"

"No, you were right about that one. Two gassy ingredients don't make a good dessert."

* * *

After talking to Raven, and his mother's visit, going to the bar didn't appeal to Bellamy anymore. He'd rather kick off his shoes and spend a quiet evening arguing with The History Channel. But he'd promised Miller, so he grabbed his keys again, and made another attempt to leave the house without interruption. Since most of the women in his life had checked in, he figured this time he'd succeed.

Maybe the girls went overboard with their concern, but he didn't mind. When he'd sequestered himself from the world, refused to see anyone, or leave his mother's house, they hadn't pushed. Just given him the time to deal with everything while they cleaned out his apartment, stored his belongings, and waited until he got his head in order.

He ran his hand over his jaw. He'd promised himself not to do this, but maybe he should give the memory his full attention. Relive the ordeal for ten minutes, then push it back to the deepest part of his soul. And if he were lucky, it wouldn't surface again until the next anniversary.

He closed his eyes and let it come in vivid detail. He'd not seen her in months, but she knew where he kept the extra key. When he got home that day, a syringe, spoon, and lighter littered his kitchen counter. At first, he thought she'd just used his apartment to shoot up, and he'd gotten pissed. But as he made his way down the hall, punching her number on his cell as he went, he never expected to find her in his bed with someone else.

Once he determined she had no pulse, he'd called 911 and started CPR. He didn't bother checking the guy. Didn't care about him, and even though Bellamy didn't love Roma anymore, at least not the drug addict, cheater Roma, the one who'd aborted their baby without telling him, he still needed to try and save her. The loser woke, raised up, and mumbled something Bellamy didn't understand. He responded with an elbow to the guy's jaw and knocked him out. Maybe this guy wasn't the junkie who'd gotten Roma hooked, but close enough. When the ambulance arrived, Bellamy had walked out of the apartment and never went back.

He took a deep breath. Time's up. That's all he'd give the past.

He'd rather think about the accident victim. Her blue eyes and expression of genuine pain when she'd ask about killing the deer. Other than hugs from his family, the injured woman was the first he'd had in his arms in years. He should go to the hospital to check on her. And he would.

Tomorrow.

* * *

 **Short, filler chapter, sorry. Thank you for everyone whose been reading thus far, and I especially love the comments. This story has taken me MONTHS to write and I'm happy to finally start sharing it with you. I'm up to writing the epilogue at the moment, which is slow going, but I'm glad I've finished with the main chapters and whatnot (except for some editing in later chapters). As always, thank you, and new chapter this upcoming Saturday (March 10).**

 **That trailer really needs to drop, and soon.**

 **As with ALL ROADS LEAD HOME, this story will feature more POV's than just Bellamy and Clarke. Can you guy guess the second couple that might be getting together this story?**


	4. Chapter 4

Clarke tried to figure out where she was. A cafeteria? It sure sounded like a busy restaurant. Oh, she hoped it was Mecha so she could get some of their mac 'n cheese and coconut pie with the mile-high meringue. People scurried all around clinging things and chattering. She didn't recognize any of the voices, and the light was so bright it burned right through her eyelids.

If this wasn't a place to eat, she needed to find the booth with the candy again. Clarke tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. A woman's voice came from far away saying something about sutures and needle gauges. Strange. If she could just open her eyes, she'd know where she was, but as hard as she tried, they wouldn't work. Nothing would. No feeling in her legs, and her arms were stiff.

A man nearby spoke. She felt his breath on her cheek. She tried to process what he said, but the words jumbled. She caught something about taking a nap. Good idea. She was tired and could use a short siesta, but she really wanted to eat first. Unfortunately, food would have to wait because fatigue overtook her, and she drifted away.

Even in her sleepy haze, sounds assaulted her ears. Somewhere, classical music played. She recognized the tune, but couldn't think of its title. Oh, well, once she woke and ate it would come to her. She just needed rest, but this bed was so hard her back hurt. And her head. Damn, couldn't one of the people darting around and making noise stop to bring her a pillow? They sounded more interested in discussing their plans for Saturday night. Two female voices scheduled a meeting at someplace called The Bunker. Funny. The thought made Clarke laugh.

Now some dude complained about having to work tomorrow night, and how that put a kink in his plans.

Which reminded Clarke, what day was it?

"Marcus, bring one of those blankets, she's shivering."

The voice sounded suspiciously like…

Mom? Clarke tried to say, but again, her mouth was so dry her lips were stuck together. This was a miserable place. She was cold, tired, and hungry and nobody seemed to care. Add to that her inability to speak or move, it was like she'd fallen into some horror movie.

"Here you go, sweetie. This should warm you up," Abby said.

Warmth settled over Clarke. Finally, things were looking up. Now if she could just get some food, find out where she was, remember the name of that sonata, and get these bozos to laugh, she'd be fine.

* * *

Bellamy pushed open the door and inhaled the aroma of chicken wings and beer. All the bar stools were occupied, mostly by locals relaxing after work. He scanned the room and spied Miller and Riley, another old high school buddy, at a corner table. Good choice. This way they'd attract little attention. By now, news of the accident and rescue was all over town

As he stepped deeper into the room, the crowd erupted into hoots and hollers. The pair rose, lifted their bottles, and Riley shouted, "There's the other man of the hour!"

Great. So much for no celebratory displays. "Come on, guys. Knock it off."

Riley slapped him on the back. "No way, man. I think it's time we give you a superhero name."

"Forget the title, just buy me a beer."

"Will do." Riley signaled the barkeep to send another round, then turned back to Bellamy. "Miller says the girl wasn't local."

As soon as Riley graduated college, he'd boarded the gravy train and took over his dad's insurance business. "Yeah, but she wasn't far from your neighborhood. Any of you richies have a visitor?"

Riley held his drink in midair, cocked his little finger, and spoke with a British accent. "Certainly not. Had she been visiting our estates, she would have been in a limo."

"If you saw her, you might wish you did know her," Miller said. "She's kind of cute, if you're into girls."

"Well, maybe I should do my civic duty as a Chamber of Commerce member and drop by the hospital for a visit."

Bellamy's chest tightened at the thought of his friend seeing the girl, and that startled him. Why should he care? She meant nothing to him, but the sensation almost felt like jealousy, and that was crazy. That was for teenagers who weren't mature enough to understand it was a wasted emotion. It didn't prove anything except a person's insecurity, and if there was one thing Bellamy had always been sure about, it was who he was and what he stood for.

Miller was way off. The girl wasn't cute. She was beautiful. Small, but not too thin. Fine-boned with a flawless complexion except for the small mole above her lip. Funny how Bellamy noticed that considering the amount of blood on her face. Okay. The verdict was in. He was horny as hell. That had to be it.

Not that he couldn't take care of that situation on any given night. There were plenty of women who'd be more than happy to help end his self-imposed celibacy. But they all wanted more than he could give, and he didn't feel right about using them just for gratification. Maybe that strong moral code came from having basically raised Octavia when money was scarce and Aurora was taking night classes to become a nurse at an assisted living facility. Or maybe from the example his father had set in how he treated Bellamy's mother. Whatever it was, Bellamy didn't have meaningless sex, not anymore.

That's the reason he didn't want Riley going to the hospital to see the girl. His friend was a semi-decent guy, but something about it irked him. It wasn't Bellamy's concern, but somehow, he felt responsible for the injured woman. For all he knew, she was married even though he hadn't seen a ring. Yeah, right along with noticing the birthmark, he'd checked for that, too.

He shook his head. He was seriously warped. Miller might be right. It was time he got serious about dating again. Arkadia wasn't exactly a mecca for singles. Too bad he'd not thought about Monty before Miller had asked him out.

Hell, what was Bellamy thinking? Later, he'd just jerk off, and he'd be good to go. Winter was right around the corner and soon out of state opportunities would open up, and once they did, he wouldn't have time to worry about his love life. Or lack thereof.

For the next three hours, he dealt with patrons wanting to buy him drinks, but instead of accepting, he requested they donate the cash to the local food bank. Then at midnight, Bellamy headed home.

After a restless night, he woke early wanting to visit the hospital before Arkadia citizens got out and about. He could see the girl, make sure she was okay and then get her off his mind. Maybe he'd make his mom happy and unpack a box or two. Where she got the idea he had decorating items, he didn't know. While living in the small apartment before buying the three-bedroom bungalow, he'd not hung a single picture, and the foo-foo nonsense Mom spoke of consisted of a few of Octavia's castoffs she'd donated to his minimalist style.

However, with cold weather ahead, it'd be nice to have a rug in the living room. He loved the original pine floors but walking on them barefoot in freezing weather proved uncomfortable. And he had plenty of space to walk since he didn't have a sofa. Just three chairs spaced around the room and a loaded bookcase teetering on collapse.

Today he'd planned to start replacing the backyard chain link with a privacy fence. Even though he lived in the country, the main county road ran right past his house. It'd be nice to sit on the back porch without being in plain view. Not that he was hiding anything, but if he wanted to stroll outside in his boxers, he'd like to be able to do that without being seen.

No. He wasn't in the mood for fence building. After visiting the girl, he'd drive to Polis and shop for a rug. Maybe O would go with him. Female advice couldn't hurt. Decision made, he grabbed his truck keys.

It only took fifteen minutes to get to the hospital and just as he thought, the parking lot was almost empty. The most action in Arkadia on a Saturday morning was parents getting their kids to the soccer field. Today the championship tournament started. Unfortunately, Octavia's team didn't make the playoffs. Finishing in last place, the Arkers definitely needed help. Perhaps next year, he'd volunteer to coach.

As he entered the building, his sister's source of gossip, Monroe, waved to him from the flower kiosk. Bellamy removed his wallet. A small bouquet might cheer the patient he was about to see.

"Hey, Monroe."

"Hey, yourself, Hero. I suppose you're here to see your latest rescue?"

"Yes," he grinned sheepishly. "How about that vase of pink roses? Think those might make her feel better?"

Monroe shook her head. "No need to waste your money. She's in a coma."

Bellamy's lungs burned as he tried to get a breath. The girl couldn't be in a coma.

"But she was conscious when I got her out of the car."

Monroe clicked her teeth. "Maybe so. But by the time she got here, she was down for the count."

Heart pounding in his ears, Bellamy shook his head. "But she was coherent. I don't understand."

Monroe shrugged and pinched dead leaves from a potted plant, stuffing them in her pocket as she talked. "Don't know the particulars. But they found a gas card in her jeans. That gave them her name. Anyway, her family arrived two hours ago. Her mom's in here with her."

"What about her dad?"

"I used my best investigative skills to get all the info I could. Dad died of cancer when the girl was barely thirteen. The mom's a doctor at Emory University Hospital in Atlanta, and that bearded one is her godfather. Owns one them big firms. Kane, Jaha, and Wallace."

"They say why she was in Arkadia?"

"That's another odd thing. They didn't know where she was until the sheriff contacted them about the accident. Well, they knew she'd left town but had no idea she was here."

The elevator dinged and got Monroe's attention. Dr. Nyko strolled toward them.

"Morning, Monroe." He slapped Bellamy on the back. "Good job with the rescue."

"Yeah, about that. Is she going to be okay?"

"Since my field is not neurology, I called in Dr. Titus from Polis. All I can tell you is she's stable. My best guess, barring a complication, she'll recover."

"But she's in a coma?" He just had to hear she'd be okay.

"The impact of a car accident causes the brain to bounce and bang around inside the skull. That force is bound to do some damage. When that happens, it needs time to recuperate."

A dozen thoughts ricocheted through his head, bouncing off his skull like quarters. "So, the bruises in her brain need to heal. And once they do, she should be back to normal. Right?" She had to come out of it, she just had to.

"Remember, I'm talking head trauma in general. I can tell you, it's difficult to determine an early prognosis. From previous cases, we've learned that many times an unconscious patient has more consciousness than believed."

"Damn it! Is she going to be a vegetable or not?"

The doctor cut him a look. Bellamy always reacted first, consequences later. But Nyko had never seen this sort of reaction from him - not since Octavia broke her arm a decade ago. "Calm down. I've already said her condition is stable."

Monroe clicked her teeth again. Bellamy figured on purpose to get attention.

She pinned him with her gaze. "Sounds like you have an interest in the girl. All I can say is it's about time."

He crossed his arms over his chest, defensive. "Are you through?"

Monroe gave a half shrug. "I'm just saying. It's time you got a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. Which would be a wise choice before Tsing cleans out her bank account for another go at you."

The MD laughed, then got serious. "You're here, so might as well visit the patient. Her family wants to meet you. Miller, too."

"I don't think so."

"Look, consciousness kind of boils down to two things: being awake/aroused and being aware. You told the EMT you had a short conversation with Miss Griffin. Since your voice was the last she heard while conscious, you might impact her waking up."

"You think?"

"Possibly. Imagine the brain stem as having an elevator in a tall building. Pulses of activity generate on the bottom floor. Stimulate those, and maybe they'll reach the penthouse. Come on."

"See you later, Monroe," Bellamy said.

"Sure. I'll keep you posted."

Bellamy followed Nyko as he led the way to Clarke's room and found it empty except for a nurse.

She looked up, smiled, and passed a chart to the doctor. "I'm finished. Her family can come back in when they're ready."

Nyko flipped pages scanning each one, then handed it back to her. "I didn't see them in the waiting area. I assume they've gone for coffee."

"Yes, they did." She turned her attention to Bellamy. "It's a real blessing you came along when you did."

"Guess so."

Nyko jerked his head toward the heart monitor. It beeped faster.

Bellamy glanced at Clarke. Her eyes rolled beneath her lids. "Is something wrong? She's so pale. And it looks like she's dreaming.

Nyko motioned for Bellamy to come closer. "Hold her hand and speak to her."

He didn't know what good that would do but didn't argue. He slid her fingers into his palm, then stroked her knuckles with his thumb. "Hey, Clarke. Remember me? If you wake up, we can finish our conversation. Didn't have time last night before things got a little crazy."

Her eyes popped open for a split second, then closed again. Bellamy gasped and turned to the doctor. "Did you see that?"

Before he answered, a voice from the doorway interrupted. "See what?"

"Everybody step out a minute," Nyko said.

The nurse took Bellamy by the arm and ushered him to the door where she looped her other arm in the stranger's and guided them both into the hallway.

"Something wrong with Clarke?" The gentleman asked.

"No. Everything is fine. Dr. Nyko wants to check her vitals. Mr. Kane, this is Bellamy Blake. The man who saved your goddaughter."

The guy grabbed Bellamy into a bear hug. "There's no way I'll ever be able to repay you."

Bellamy wanted to pull away but decided to let the guy get it out of his system. No need to be rude. "It's okay. I'm just glad I came along."

Mr. Kane let go, then turned to the three onlookers. Then he faced Bellamy again and pointed to each man. "This is Clarke's cousin, Lincoln, and these two are Thelonious and Wells Jaha, friends of the family."

As they exchanged handshakes, Nyko joined them. "There's been a development. It seems she responded to Bellamy's voice."

Bellamy pulled his brows together. He figured the eye-popping thing might have been a common occurrence among coma patients, but apparently not. "I don't understand."

"Her heart rate increased when you spoke, and she opened her eyes for a second. That hasn't happened with anyone else."

Mr. Kane stepped forward. "That's good, right? She's coming out of it."

Nyko nodded. "Possibly. Emotional responses are a good indicator of emerging consciousness, but I don't want to get your hopes up. It isn't like in the movies. Usually, patients don't wake suddenly. You may witness smiling, crying, verbal sounds, rapid eye movement, and yes, even her opening her eyes for a few seconds. But she could still have a long way to go before she wakes permanently."

The doctor focused on the family, then Bellamy, then back to them. "For some reason, she connects with him. Could be because he's the last person she saw before losing consciousness. All I know is she responds to his voice. Which is a good sign. A very good sign."

Kane placed his hand on Bellamy's shoulder. "If that's the case, you need to spend time with her. You could be the key to bringing her out this."

Bellamy's mind raced and the memory of his father's last year of life flashed in vivid detail. He had only been a kid, really, but the effervescent memories imprinted in his brain. Maybe Clarke Griffin wasn't dying like his Octavia's dad had been, but still, the burden of waiting had taken its toll. He never wished to go through that again. Yet, a part of him wanted to.

"Sir, I …"

"No!" He threw his hands in the air. "I won't take no for an answer. Abby's already lost her husband. I won't let Abby lose her little girl. I will not lose Clarke. Name your price."

Bellamy's stomach clenched. There was nothing worse than seeing a desperate man cry. He glanced at the others. Their expressions full of expectations. Wells stepped closer.

"Please, man. All we're asking is that you visit her. Whenever you can."

"I understand. Really, I do. But it could be a coincidence. Like the rescue. Right time. Right place. That might have happened if I'd been in the room or not."

"One way to find out," Wells said. "Let's go back in there, and we'll each take a turn talking to her. If you're the only one who gets a reaction, then promise me you'll help us. At least for a few days."

What Bellamy would give for a double shot of antacid right about then but he didn't see a way out of this except to agree and hope for the best. That it had been a fluke. A random bodily function that had nothing to do with him. He took a deep breath.

"Fair enough."

When the mother, Abby – Kane had called her, returned to Clarke's bedside, Bellamy stood in the corner and tried to calm his nerves, especially when Clarke's mom was eyeing him. He hadn't seen that look since Mr. Bragg sat on his lazy boy, cleaning his guns when Bellamy picked Roma up for Prom.

"Abby, this is Bellamy, one of the-"

"I know who he is," Abby interrupted, sticking her hand out to shake. Swallowing, he wiped his clammy hand on his jeans before grasping her hand.

"Thank you for helping Clarke. I don't know what I'd do if…" her voice broke and tears sprung to her eyes. "Thank you," she reiterated before excusing herself to the ladies room, Marcus at her heels. He wondered idly if there was something there.

Silence reigned supreme for heady moment, no one quite sure how to break the tension.

Lincoln stepped up to Clarke's bedside. One after the other begged her to speak. Smile. Any indication she heard them. They got nothing.

When Wells finished his plea with no results, he stepped back for Bellamy to pass.

Moving to the side of the bed, he lifted her hand. "Hey, it's me again. Today, I found out your name is Clarke. I'm Bellamy."

She grinned, and the monitor picked up its pace again.

Shit. What had he gotten himself into?

* * *

Octavia saw Bellamy when he got off the elevator. Wanting to avoid him, she ducked into the ladies room. No need to give him the chance to get all up in her business. Not that she had any to get in. She didn't. Which was pretty lame. But Bellamy found something wrong with every guy she liked. Thanks to him, all the boys in town were afraid to ask her out. He just didn't want to admit she wasn't a little girl anymore. He kept saying how he couldn't believe she was about to graduate high school. Well, she was. Old enough to make her own decisions concerning men.

That's what she wanted. A man. Someone mature enough not to pull stupid pranks and think the most important thing in the world was a pickup truck. Besides, if big bro didn't approve of her classmates, then she needed to broaden her horizons and she would as soon as she got to college. Bellamy wanted her to attend Polis' Junior College. Good old PJC. Home of the Warriors. Yeah, he wanted her close so he could still run her life. But that wasn't happening.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror and ran her hands through her hair. Maybe she should cut it. Get some highlights or better yet, dye it pink and spike it. No. That might put her mother into an early grave. She'd have to wait until she got to Tuscaloosa for that.

Already accepted at the University of Alabama, she'd be far enough away, Bellamy couldn't breathe down her neck. Plan her life. Pick her boyfriends. Give her unwanted advice.

She needed out of this hick town, and once she left, she never planned to come back. Well, she'd visit because her family lived here. Even as bossy as her brother was, he was always there for her, and she couldn't go very long without seeing him and Mom.

Octavia palmed her phone and checked the time. It had been at least ten minutes. He had to be gone by now. Dropping her cell back into her pocket, she pushed open the door. Damn.

Bellamy leaned against the reception counter, arms folded over his broad chest. "I thought that was you ducking into the bathroom. Not avoiding me, are you?"

She gave him her best innocent look. The one he never believed. "Why would I?"

"Yeah. Right. What are you doing here?"

"Picking up an application. Nyko said this would be a good place for me to get a summer job. I think he has an ulterior motive. Hopes I'll go into nursing like Anya."

"You should consider it. It worked out pretty well for her."

Before she could stop herself, she rolled her eyes. "You mean because she married Nyko? I don't need to land a doctor. I plan to make my own way."

"Good for you."

"That's it? No lecture about getting married, settling down, and having a family?"

Bellamy reached out and pulled her into a hug. "All I want is for you to be happy."

She hated when he got all mushy, but she hugged him back. Being in his arms made her feel safe.

Bellamy squeezed her tighter, pressed his lips to her head, patted her back, then released her. "You want me to wait on you? We can go to The Dripship, and I'll buy you one of those fancy ten-name lattes."

"No, that's okay. What are you doing here? Somebody you know sick?"

"The girl from the accident. Came to check on her."

"Oh, how is she?"

"In a coma, but stable. Nyko thinks she'll be all right. It's just going to take time. Hey, you want to ride over to Polis with me?"

"No. I promised Mom I'd help her bake."

The elevator dinged again, and a group of men strolled out. Bellamy spoke to them. "You guys headed back home?"

The bearded man answered, flecks of grey shining silver in the hospital light. "No. Going to check into the motel."

Octavia eyed the tatted one, and he returned her gaze. Heat started at her throat and spread up to her cheeks. She took her bottom lip between her teeth and glanced at Bellamy who appeared to already want to eviscerate him.

Hot guy stuck out his hand. "Hey, I'm Lincoln."

Octavia slipped her palm into his, but before she could say anything, Bellamy butted in.

"This is my little sister. She's in high school."

Octavia thinned her lips and shot Bellamy her patented killer gaze. He was still getting into her business. She needed to break him of that habit.

He ignored her disapproval and nodded toward the threesome. "They're here for the girl from the accident. They live in Atlanta."

"Nice to meet you and I do have a name. It's Octavia." She cut her eyes back at her brother just to make sure he knew she didn't appreciate the way he'd introduced her. "I better run. I have to pick up an application, because regardless of what my brother thinks, as an almost college student I'm old enough to have a job."

She sashayed away. When she got to the elevators, she glanced back to find Lincoln starring. Her heart kicked up a notch.

* * *

Lincoln had no idea what he was doing. One minute he was on his way to the hospital parking lot, the next, telling the others to go to the motel without him. Bellamy's disapproving expression hadn't gone unnoticed, so why was Lincoln hanging around hoping to see Octavia again?

She was a teenager for God's sake. But when she locked eyes with him, his chest constricted. A girl hadn't affected him like that since junior high when hormones ruled his brain. Now he was a grown ass man with plenty of self-control. But damn if he hadn't almost lost it when her cheeks flushed a rosy pink.

The elevator doors opened, and his heart leaped into his throat. A senior citizen got off, and Lincoln took a deep breath. This was nuts. He'd officially lost his mind. Forget her brother, even his family wouldn't be on board with him dating someone that much younger. Everyone would think he was only interested in one thing. Then she caught that plump bottom lip between her teeth and blood pooled in his groin.

There had been a connection, and unless he'd misread the situation, she had felt it, too.

"What are you still doing here?"

He jumped at the sound of her voice. He'd been so caught up in his thoughts, he'd not heard her approach.

"Look. I know you're going to think I'm insane, but before, I think something happened between us. Am I wrong?"

She pressed her hand to her throat. "Wow. You get right to the point. Are you always so straight-forward?"

"Not always." Fuck. "I'm not coming on to you. That wasn't a pickup line. I just—I mean—"

She smiled, lowered her gaze, then focused those big green eyes on him again. "I know what you mean. I'm not used to guys being so straightforward. Actually, I've not had enough pickup lines to know when I'm getting one, so I'll take your word for it."

Oh, hell. He rubbed the back of his neck to relieve the tension there. This was wrong. "I figured as much, that's why I—shit, suddenly I feel like a weirdo. This was a mistake. I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry."

He turned to leave, but she put her hand on his forearm.

"Please don't go. They don't have a full cafeteria here. It's more like a snack shop. Why don't we get something to drink and talk?"

"You sure? Because you know if your brother finds out, I'm pretty sure he'll kill me."

She glanced around the area. "No if about it. He'll find out. But we're in a public place, so there won't be much to gossip about other than we'll be sitting at the same table. How bad can that be?"

"I've got two little sisters. Take my word for it, it can be bad."

She slid her hand down his arm and into his hand, then tugged. "Come on. I'm willing to risk it if you are." She bit her bottom lip again.

Damn. "Okay. Lead the way."

She let go of his hand, took two steps and then stopped and faced him again. "Oh, and just so you know. You don't look anything like the weirdos I've pictured in my head."

God help him. This girl was going to be the death of him.

* * *

 **As always, thanks for reading. Don't worry, Clarke will be awake soon. Like with my last fic, there will be multiple POV's. If you haven't figured it out yet, Linctavia is the second couple. I still miss Lincoln and it seems most fics he's never a talker, so it was a fun challenge to give him his whole POV. Keep coming with the comments, that always makes my day! Next chapter will be released on Thursday, March 15.**


	5. Chapter 5

**WARNING: ADULT THEMES AHEAD. Be careful of the italics if you don't wanna read that stuff.**

* * *

Sunday morning when Bellamy arrived at Clarke's room, the curtain was drawn. From the other side, two women spoke. According to their conversation, they were bathing her.

He turned and strolled back into the hallway and headed to the waiting area. Except for a young pregnant woman, the place was empty. Pulling a couple of antacids from his pocket, he popped them into his mouth.

The lady looked up and smiled. "Upset stomach?"

"Yeah. Been having a lot of that lately."

She rubbed her belly. "I know the feeling."

He dropped into one of the chairs flanking the sofa where she sat, removed his baseball cap and hung it over his knee. "I'm sure my discomfort doesn't come close to yours."

"At least I'm past that stage." She stuck out her hand. "Luna Waters-Jaha."

He leaned forward and accepted the handshake. "Clarke's sister-in-law?"

"You know her?"

"Not really. I'm Bellamy Blake. One of the guys who came upon the accident."

"Dr. Nyko told me about your visit yesterday and how she responded to you." Luna nodded toward a colored paper bag. "I brought some things for her. Magazines, books, makeup. I suppose she lost her iPod in the fire. Phone, too. I think her mom is getting her a new one. You know, for when she wakes up. We really appreciate what you're doing."

"Glad to help." That wasn't exactly the truth, but not a complete lie. "Would you mind telling me about her?"

"Not at all. She's a good person. Always does the right thing. Pretty plain." Luna gasped. "Oh, I don't mean that in a bad way. I mean, you've seen her car. She isn't flashy. She won't even touch her trust fund. Her dad died when Clarke was younger. They were really close; she took it pretty hard."

"Oh." The next question was for Bellamy's benefit and had nothing to do with helping Clarke, but he wanted to know, and this was the perfect time to get the info. "I suppose there's no boyfriend in the picture or he'd be here. Right?"

Luna giggled. "I really shouldn't laugh. She's not had the best of luck with love."

When she finished the summary of Clarke's first two relationships, she moved on to her current love interest. "She's been seeing a guy named Finn, but he's out of the country right now. Texts Lincoln and Wells several times a day for any updates. Claims they had a petty argument, and that's why she was in this part of the country. God, if he cheated on her, he knows better than to admit it. Dealing with her family will not be pretty."

He bristled, but chalked it up to how he'd felt when his dad had ran around on his mom, before finally running out. No one deserved that. "Argument or not, if my girlfriend was in the hospital, I'd drop everything to see about her."

Luna raised her brows. "Oh, so you have a girlfriend? What does she think about you helping Clarke?"

"No, I was talking in general. Just seems odd to me this guy is satisfied with just texts."

"I agree. There may be more going on than what he's telling us. Time will tell. When Clarke wakes, she can fill in the blanks."

Bellamy didn't know what he'd expected Luna to say, but was glad his first impression of Clarke had been right. With a little luck, she'd wake sooner than later and go back to Atlanta, and his life would get back to normal. A part of him disliked the idea. Before he could give that more thought, someone behind him spoke.

"You can go back in now, Mrs. Jaha."

Bellamy turned to face Harper. She'd been working at the hospital since she graduated high school. "Hey, Harper."

"Hey, yourself. Grapevine says you're gonna get another hero award for the rescue. Good for you."

"Thanks, but Miller was just as instrumental as I was."

"Hear he's getting one, too. A group of us plans to nominate you for that Bachelor TV show."

Christ Almighty. Would it ever stop? Arkadian residents were so damn bored with their lives, they latched onto any bit of news they could and blew it out of proportion.

"No. Don't do that. I'm flattered, but I have no desire to be on TV."

She snorted. "But Bellamy. You're the town's favorite son and just about the most eligible bachelor."

He shook his head so fast his vision blurred. "Harper, I'm putting you in charge of killing that notion. I mean it. If you want to nominate someone, Riley is your best candidate. He'd welcome the opportunity to put Arkadia on the map."

She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head as if weighing the possibility. "Well, if you're dead set against it, I guess I can throw his name in for consideration. But, he's never saved anyone."

"Not true. He saves people money on their insurance all the time."

Harper laughed out loud, then caught her breath. "Good Lord, Bellamy. You tickle me."

"Yeah, well just promise me you'll withdraw my name."

"The girls won't be happy, but okay."

She disappeared, and Bellamy relaxed. He hoped he'd put that fire out for good. He turned back to Luna. She had an odd expression.

"So, you're a local hero and saving Clarke was all in a day's work?"

"It doesn't take much to earn that title in a town this small."

"I don't believe that for a minute. But I can see how uncomfortable the subject makes you, so I'll let it drop. If you don't mind, I'll go back to the motel and let you visit with Clarke. I've been here since four o'clock this morning."

"Sure. That's fine. I'll stay with her until another family member shows up."

Bellamy grabbed the bag, headed back down the hallway, and into her room. It was scary seeing her hooked up to all the machines, with tubes and needles seemingly all over the place. She had a breathing tube that hooked into her nose, and an IV drip with a shunt in her arm. With all the blipping and beeping machines hooked into her, Clarke looked smaller, paler, and frailer than he'd seen her the night of the accident. Her hair was a shockingly blond mess piled on the top of her head in a lumpy bun that made her look too pale for his liking.

She had improved since he saw her last, at least. Her face and curly locks were clean and free of blood and a thick bandage covering a generous portion of her forehead. The bruises on her neck and arms looked almost black, just starting to yellow around the edges. His heart broke for her.

He scooted a chair closer to her bed, then reached into the sack and retrieved a book. On the front, a couple posed half naked – one of those New Adult books his sister tried to hide away under a Twilight dust jacket. There wasn't much to say to a stranger in a coma. Maybe he could just pass the time by reading to her, anything to ignore the wires and steady beeping. He turned to chapter one and read, "Based on scientific evidence, Elyza Talbott knew even good girls got aroused by bad boys."

The heart monitor beeped faster.

"Is that right? Good girls really do get turned on by bad guys? Why is that? Women think they can change them?" He waited half-expecting her to answer. "Oh, well, we'll save those questions for when you wake." He continued, "Robbie Morrell strutted into the campus library with the confidence of a peacock, leaving a trail of pheromones to settle on every straight woman in the room - including the ancient librarian. A surge of whispers circulated, each female mesmerized by his imaginary plumage."

"So, this Robbie guy, he's the one she'll change—right? Man, I can tell I'm already going to have a ton of questions about this book. From the looks of it, you've probably read this thing ten times and know it by heart. Maybe I'll just skip around and read parts at random."

He fanned the pages and stopped at one with the corner folded down. "This must be one of your favorite because you have it highlighted. He took a moment to look at her, every flawless inch. Her small, perfectly rounded breasts, water streaming over puckered pink nipples.

His face reddened, despite the fact he was alone with a girl in a coma and no one around to see him reading erotica. "Holy shit. I'm not sure I can read this aloud. Are all the smutty bits marked?"

He flipped the pages again, stopped on one almost entirely colored, and read, "She stood and scooted her desk chair to the center of the room. "No need to apologize. Now, we're going to play a little game. Sit, please."

He sat, and she stood between his knees. He reached for her waist, and she moved away. "No touching and no talking."

"What?"

"I can touch you, but you can't touch me, and I can talk, but not you. That's the rules."

He ran his hand across his face. "I'm not going to like this game."

"I think you will. In the past two days, we've made love in every room. I've saved mine for last. Care to guess how many nights I cried myself to sleep in here? Hundreds. It'll take powerful stuff to make me forget that misery. Now, hold on to your chair. That'll give you something to do with your hands."

Robbie grabbed the wooden seat.

Elyza hip-swayed to stand in front of him again. He reached for her, but she leaned away. "No touching."

He leaned back.

She cupped his chin, held it there, and stared into his eyes. "I love you." She kissed his right eye. "I love you more than all the stars in heaven." He moaned, and she pressed her lips to his left eye.

He slid his palms to her hips and then corrected himself. "Sorry."

"Shh." She kissed his cheeks, first one and then the other. "I never knew I could feel this way."

He started to speak, but she kissed him. He moaned, and when she licked into his mouth, his hands came off the chair and clasped her waist.

She grabbed his wrists. "Don't make me tie you up. Sit on them if you need to, but no touching."

"Sweet Jesus." He slipped them under his thighs.

She wrapped her fingers on the chair back and straddled him.

He gasped. "God help me. You're not wearing panties."

"No talking." She ran her hand between his legs and stroked him.

"I want to touch you."

"Nuh-uh." She covered his mouth, slid her tongue across his, then buried him inside her.

A faint moan came from Clarke. Bellamy blinked, rapidly returning to reality and focused on her face. She opened her eyes for a split second, then closed them again.

He cleared his throat and closed his eyes tight – willing his mind to ignore the sound of her moaning as he read her smut. "Holy hell. I don't know you well enough to read this kind of stuff to you." He shifted in his seat, willing himself not to respond to the sounds she was making. The last thing he needed was a family member or doctor to walk in and see him with a boner. He'd have to skip town and found some colony somewhere, far, far away. Like space.

No, he couldn't read it aloud, but he damn sure wanted to finish what he'd started, so he read it silently.

A low growl came from deep in his throat.

She clenched around him and let him simmer in the heat for a moment. Then she pulled the blouse off her shoulders and brought his face to rest between her breasts. "I'll never love anybody but you." She rocked into him.

"You feel so damn good."

"Shhh."

She withdrew, then buried him deep inside her again. Withdrew. Buried. Withdrew. Buried. Squeezed. Released. Squeezed. Released. Over and over until he emptied into her.

Nope, definitely wasn't going to let anyone hear him read this. Damn, if he wasn't getting a boner. Shit. He quickly zipped through more pages, stopping at another highlighted section.

"Okay, here's something I can read."

"You are, aren't you? You're falling in love with her. Unbelievable."

"Love? I don't know. I'm not sure how it's supposed to feel. You're the expert in that department, not me."

"It's like a fart, bro. You don't even know it's happening until it crawls out of your ass and the smell hits."

Robbie glared at him. "Why do I talk to you about this stuff?"

His friend shrugged noncommittally. "I'm just saying it sneaks up on you."

Bellamy laughed out loud. "That's funny, and you must have thought so, too, because you highlighted it. You've got to wake up, Clarke. I really want to get to know you."

She made a humming sound, opened and closed her eyes again.

Even with a one-sided conversation, he was drawn to her. And as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted to spend time with her awake.

* * *

Octavia knew it was wrong to sneak around to meet a boy. (Correction. Man.) But she couldn't stop herself. She'd fallen in love with Lincoln Woods the moment she saw him. Others would say she was being a silly girl and had no experience in romance. And they'd be right. She'd never been in love before, and her feelings might be the chemical reaction she'd studied in science. A dangerous cocktail of dopamine, adrenaline, and norepinephrine that caused her heart to race, palms to sweat, cheeks to flush, and to see only the good in him.

That all happened at first sight. It happened again when she saw him waiting in the lobby. During their conversation, she'd learned his age. Twenty-four. Too old for her. At least that's what Bellamy would say. Probably Mom, too.

Big deal. In fairytales, where did it say a girl had to kiss a bunch of frogs before she found her prince? Lincoln was the one. The One. Octavia didn't care what anybody said. She liked him, a lot. Maybe he didn't reciprocate, but he'd admitted to an attraction, so that gave her plenty to build on.

While his cousin recovered, he'd spend time here. Octavia didn't wish Clarke any bad luck, but the longer she was comatose, the better. Swallowing hard, she gave herself a mental slap. What an awful, selfish thing to wish for. She should be ashamed, but no one was going to stop her from being with Lincoln, no matter how much they disapproved. Unless…he didn't want her.

* * *

Lincoln held his head under the spray of water and wondered what had gotten into him. The last thing he needed was some clandestine affair with an teenager. Okay, in the eyes of the law, she was legal, but the thought made his stomach cramp.

Maybe it was infatuation. She was beautiful for sure. The way her eyes danced when she looked at him. How her cheeks flushed pale pink as if he'd said something that embarrassed her. And when she took that plump bottom lip between her teeth, he thought he might come unglued. No girl— correction—woman, had ever made him so nervous or excited.

Sure he'd dated plenty. Even been in love once. At least he thought he had. Turned out, after she dumped him, it didn't take long to recover, so it must not have been the real thing. But this was different. After spending one hour with her, his chest burned at the thought of not seeing her again. He'd have to be careful. Take it slow. He didn't want to do anything that might offend her or turn her against him.

He shut off the water, ran the towel over his body, then wrapped it around his waist. The motel wasn't fancy, but it was clean. Right now, he was a struggling artist and shared the room, but later today, they'd all return to Atlanta, and he'd stay behind for another week. It would give him more time with Octavia.

Damn. He loved the sound of her name, and it fit her. Elegant. And her hair. So dark and thick, he wanted to spear his hands into those long strands and let them slip through his fingers like silk ribbons.

He wiped fog from the mirror, then stared at his reflection. What was he thinking? Starting something with her was crazy. Regardless if she was here in Arkadia, or attending college in Tuscaloosa, either direction was a three hour trip for him. No, he saw no future with Octavia beyond Clarke's hospital stay. Once she was well, he'd have no reason to ever be in Arkadia again.

There was only one logical thing to do. When they met later, he'd explain he'd made a mistake. How he'd allowed his emotions to rule his brain. Granted, there was something between them, but the timing was wrong. She'd understand. Hell, she was probably thinking the same thing.

The park where Octavia told Lincoln to meet her was in walking distance. Since Abby and Marcus had stayed at the hospital and Thelonious had gone to breakfast with Luna and Wells, Octavia offered to pick Lincoln up, but he didn't think it would be a good idea. Since everyone knew everybody's business in Arkadia, he figured news of her car at the local motel would get back to her brother. Plus, he could use the fresh air to clear his head and rehearse what he had to say.

For November, the day was unseasonably warm. That wasn't saying much for this part of Alabama because the area was famous for mild winters. According to the local weatherman, today's high would reach 72 degrees, four points above average. Because of the pleasant temperature and his pending announcement, Lincoln took his time. Even though he knew it was the right choice, his entire body ached with dread. Muscles stretched to their limit. Lungs burned. Head pounded. How could a good decision make him feel this terrible?

He found her sitting on a bench beneath an oak tree. Sunlight filtered through the bare limbs stroking her flawless skin like a whispered sonnet. God, she was beautiful. Like an angel straight from heaven. He lost his breath, then forced air into his lungs but only managed to half fill them.

She looked at him and smiled. Damn, this would be harder than he thought. No need to waste time with small talk. Just get right to it.

"Octavia."

Her smile widened, and his heart squeezed tighter. She stood and stepped closer, stretching her arms out for a hug. He backed away.

"Look, I've been thinking."

She took her bottom lip between her teeth, then swallowed. "About what?"

"You. Us. What I said yesterday."

She went back to the bench, sat, and patted the spot next to her. "You said a lot of things. So what exactly?"

He took her hand in his. Not because he thought it would make things easier for her, but because he thought he might die if he didn't touch her.

"I live three hours away." Stupid beginning. What happened to his memorized speech?

She looked up at him, those eyes glittering in anticipation. Oh, God. She thinks this will be something it isn't. No need to prolong it.

"This is wrong, and we shouldn't see each other. You're an impressionable young woman with no experience. I was an idiot for coming on to you. You're eighteen. I'm twenty-four. I live in Atlanta. You live here. You've got your whole life ahead of you. College. Career. You should be thinking about going to prom or homecoming or whatever and who'll be your date. Not wasting your time with a guy who'll be gone in a few weeks."

There. He'd gotten it all out. Every logical reason why this wouldn't work, and she couldn't challenge any of them because he was right. Oh, but God, what if she cried? What would he do then? He'd not considered that until now. Damn.

She removed her hand and patted the top of his like a doting grandmother, then pinned him with her gaze. "Are you done?"

"Uh—yeah."

"Okay. So now I get my say. First things first. You don't have a girlfriend?" She paused, contemplating. "Or a boyfriend, right?"

"No. If I did, I would have never…"

She held up her hand to stop him. "I didn't think you would but wanted to be sure. I'm not wasting my time with you, even if I were, it's mine to waste—right? I'm not as impressionable as you think. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty damn hard to impress because of the male role models I've had in my life. There was no one better than Bellamy, well, as much as I want him to stay out of my business, he's just about the best man I know. So, I measure every guy against him, and this little speech of yours tells me a lot about you."

He tried to speak, but she waved him off.

"I'm not finished," she said. "I am thinking about homecoming. I've already had two offers. Neither interests me. I have my eye on someone, and if he doesn't ask, then I'll ask him. I'm not putting my life on hold for you, Lincoln. I know the age difference, and my inexperience creates a few problems for us, but I don't think we should let that stand in our way. You like me, and I like you. We owe it to ourselves to see where this goes. Once we get to know each other better, we may decide to go our separate ways. If that happens, then we at least won't have any regrets. Right?"

Lincoln's brain spun. Who the hell was this person? Whoever she was, she wasn't finished because just about the time he tried to respond, she put her finger in the air.

"Unless?"

"Unless, what?"

"You've decided you don't like me and this was just your way of letting me down easy. You know, listing all the reasons we shouldn't be together to mask the real reason."

He smiled. Damn. She was so hot he thought he might implode on the spot. "Oh, I like you all right. Too much. That's the problem."

She shook her head. "You can't like someone too much. No such thing."

"Who the hell are you?" There was that lip biting thing again, and his heart tripped.

Her nose crinkled in the cutest way he'd ever seen. "I'm the girl of your dreams. You just don't know it yet."

* * *

 **Oh gosh, HOW ABOUT THAT TRAILER?! I might die before April 24.**

 **Don't worry, Clarke will wake up within the next couple of chapters. Hopefully the Bellamy and Linctavia chapters aren't boring yall too much.**


	6. Chapter 6

Each time Bellamy visited the house he grew up in, it smelled of strange but interesting aromas. It had not always been that way. Only since Octavia's dad died and their mother had gone full force into baking. He figured it was her way of grieving. Everybody handled loss differently.

He chose not to talk about it. Octavia was just the opposite. She wanted to keep her dad's memory alive and thought the way to do it was to constantly sing his praises, which he deserved. He'd only been around for a few, short years after O was born before he passed, but that didn't stop Octavia. He'd been a good father and faithful to Aurora – unlike Bellamy's father - and in Bellamy's eyes, there was no greater accomplishment or legacy.

Today, a mixture of banana, lemon and something he couldn't identify hung heavy in the air. No need to guess, he'd know soon enough. Not only what the ingredients were, but he'd be forced to taste them. During the last two years of his mother's quest for baking stardom, he'd learned not to mince words. Lying about something that tasted awful didn't help her improve, and she'd learned to take the constructive criticism.

The island was a mess of pots and pans, all covered in different colored bits of goo. Red, brown, yellow, even green. Between Aurora and Octavia's disastrous ability in the kitchen, he'd come to expect the place looking like a hurricane had swept through. It would be more surprising to see it clean. It seemed he was the only Blake capable of splicing ingredients for something edible.

He leaned over to kiss his mom on the cheek. "Hey good lookin', whatcha got cooking?"

She turned to face him and snorted. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, he knew she got lonely, and he hated that, but thinking about her with possibly another asshole made Bellamy uneasy.

He leaned low over the counter and inhaled one of the pies cooling there.

"Let me guess. Bananas and beer?"

"That's right!" She pushed a bowl toward him. "Rake some of this out and give it a taste."

He ran his finger around the rim, licked it clean, then took a few seconds to let his taste buds adjust. "Not bad."

Reaching for another bowl, she tilted it in his direction. "Now this one."

Once again, he ringed the edge, but instead of putting it in his mouth, brought it to his nose. "Okay, this has lemon in it, right?"

"Correct."

He studied the texture and color. Her reputation for weird concoctions gave him pause. It looked innocent enough, but with her, he couldn't always tell. "What else?"

"Oh, don't be a baby. Just taste it and tell me what you think."

With a deep breath, he slid his finger into his mouth. "Hmm. Honestly, I don't detect anything but lemon."

"Well, that will never do. Anybody can make a lemon pie. You sure you can't taste the squash?"

He shook his head. "Have you ever thought about using ingredients that might actually go together? Like, say—berries or pears, or what about oranges? Lemon and oranges are from the same family."

She rested her hands on her hips and sighed. "You're missing the whole point. The recipe needs to be unusual. And delicious. I'll never win with common combinations. You want some lunch? I have leftover roast. I could heat some up in the microwave or make you a sandwich."

Bellamy glanced around the room. "No, I'm good. Octavia here?"

"No. The minute we got home from early service, she changed clothes and headed out. Said she was going to the library, which I think is code for she's got a boyfriend."

"Really? Who do you think he is?"

"Don't know. You know how your sister is. She'll tell us when she's ready."

"She been going to the library a lot?"

Mom cocked her head and twisted her mouth into the smirk he recognized as her mind your business expression.

"I see those wheels turning, Bell. You need to leave your sister alone. In six months she'll be in college, and you won't know who she's seeing or what she's doing. Might as well start conditioning yourself now."

"I wish she'd reconsider and go to the junior college for a couple of years. I'd feel a lot better about it."

"Oh, honey." Mom slipped her arm around him. "You're such a good brother, but you have to let go and trust that you and I raised her right."

"Yeah, well, good upbringing doesn't guarantee bad things won't happen."

Rubbing her hand back and forth across his shoulders, she changed her tone. "Octavia is nothing like Roma."

"I didn't say she was," he gruffly remarked.

"Sweetie, I know you think if you'd stayed in college you could have kept her on the straight and narrow, but you know in your heart that isn't true."

Maybe she was right, and he was projecting Roma's trouble onto Octavia, but at one time there had been no one nicer or more innocent than his former girlfriend. The party scene had sucked her in, and who was to say the same thing wouldn't happen to his sister? He needed her close so he could look out for her. "I just worry about her. One wrong decision can change her whole life."

One more pat and Mom released him. "I know. This is your sister, though. Octavia's her own person. She's stubborn, like you, in that aspect. No one has ever been able to talk either of you into anything you didn't want to do. Trust that she's level headed and has a strong desire not to disappoint you, so that will probably be enough. Besides, if she makes the roller derby team, with practice, classes, and events on weekends, she'll be too busy handing out concussions in the rink to get into trouble elsewhere." She wiped her hands on her apron. "Now, what about Clarke? I understand you've agreed to regular visits."

"Yeah, that's where I'm headed next. Most of her family is going home today. I just hope she wakes up soon. I'm not really comfortable talking to her." He'd visited the girl several times, and their one way conversations were always inherently awkward.

"Look on the bright side. It's probably the only time in your life you won't have to worry about a woman talking back. You just might discover one-sided conversations aren't that bad."

All the way to the hospital Bellamy thought about his sister and the possibility of a boyfriend. So far, he'd not been impressed with her choices, or maybe Mom was right, and he just butted in too much. Then again, who else did Octavia have? Mom? Not a chance. She never got into Octavia's business. Must be a girl thing, but Bellamy knew how guys thought, and what they wanted. Especially, horny teenage boys. Besides, this day and time, it only took one tweet to ruin a girl's reputation. And he'd be damned before he let that happen to her.

He pushed the thought away and focused on the problem at hand. He should have given Kane a time limit. Only agreed to a couple of weeks visits and then let them handle the situation. Watching Clarke sleep, so pale and fragile, affected him in ways he didn't want to deal with right now. Soon, parts of the country would be buried in snow and ice, and he'd be working out of state. Better the family didn't depend on him for long.

He slid into a parking spot near the door, put his cell in his pocket, got out, and strolled into the building. The lobby waiting area was vacant except for Carl Emerson, the town drunk. He'd claimed a spot at the end of the sofa and had his head thrown back, mouth open, snoring to high heaven. The guy spent his days going from one business to the other soaking up either the heat or air conditioning, depending on the season. But on Sundays, with most shops closed until afternoon, this must be his regular hangout.

Bellamy took the elevator to the top floor, then headed to Clarke's room. When he entered, Abby looked up and smiled.

"Good morning, Bellamy."

"Morning. How's she doing?"

The woman nodded toward the monitor, the beat getting faster. "Better now that you're here."

The increase in tempo confused Bellamy. He'd barely spoken two words to the girl, but yet she seemed to recognize his voice over her mom's. Maybe it was all part of her brain healing. Whatever it was, he wouldn't question it.

"The doctor see any improvement?" Maybe if he had, then Bellamy would be off the hook. He could always hope.

"Just the fact she opens her eyes and makes facial expression is a good indication she may be coming out of it." Abby walked to the bed and took Clarke's hand. "Again, you have no idea what your visits mean to us. I have a good feeling it won't be long until she comes out of it." She brought Clarke's hand to her lips and kissed it, then turned to Bellamy again.

"I've been here all night, so if you don't mind, I'll leave you with her. Another family member should be here soon."

Once alone, Bellamy retrieved another book from the bag Luna had brought. This time, it appeared to be a journal of poetry. Clarke's sister-in-law had mentioned Clarke played guitar and wrote songs, so he figured these were some of her creations.

He scooted a chair closer to her bed. "I understand you write music. I envy your ability. I don't have a musical bone in my body. If you wake up, maybe you could give me some guitar lessons. I've always fantasized about being a rock star."

That got a smile from her and Bellamy laughed. She didn't even know him but knew that was a ridiculous notion. "Hey, there's only one thing holding me back. Lack of talent."

Another smile.

He fanned the pages, stopping at random. "This looks interesting. You Give me Asthma."

My love for you will always prevail

Even if I struggle to inhale

You give me asthma

Bellamy stopped and leaned forward, laughing. "That's funny."

Clarke made a little sound. Something between a grunt and moan.

"Oh, sorry. For all I know you mean it to be humorous. I'll go with that." He straightened in his chair and continued, trying his best not to smile – even if she couldn't see it.

Once he finished, Bellamy shot up from the chair and rushed into the hallway, doing his best to stifle his laughter until out of her earshot. If this wasn't meant to be a joke, she was an awful writer. Evidently, it was written in jest. Had to be. He leaned against the wall, trying to pull himself back together. He didn't want to hurt her feelings. Especially if this was a serious attempt.

Once he'd regained control, he went back inside and sat again. "Let's try another one." He turned a few pages and read.

Bad luck follows me like a shadow

Even with my best effort

Nothing seems to matter

My heart, once again broken

Reasons and excuses left unspoken

When I gave my heart freely

I wish I had known

You'd take and use it

Then leave me alone

Something twisted in Bellamy's chest. Even if the poem wasn't that good, he felt her pain. He knew all too well the emotions brought on by betrayal. He wondered how many times she'd been hurt. The prose said once again. By the same guy? A different one? The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to know. And that bothered him more than he liked.

* * *

Clarke struggled to open her eyes. Why was he reading crappy poetry to her? That's the last thing she wanted to hear. Instead, she wanted to hear more about Robbie and Elyza, and their lust and longing. The type of story that made Clarke's skin feel warm and fuzzy. Robbie's declarations of love and Elyza's expressions of devotion.

More description of Elyza's hair trailing down Robbie's body and his lips moving over her with precision. Their hearts racing and heads spinning until they lost all sense of reason, tangling together with abandon. Trapped in each other's arms. Yeah, that's what Clarke needed to hear. A story of desire and passion. A thirst only love could quench.

The four-letter word caused goosebumps. She'd fantasized about being adored the same way Robbie cherished Elyza. Someone who'd put her first. A guy she could depend on no matter what.

Why couldn't she open her eyes? Even when she did, spots danced before her. Bright flashes of primary colors filling her vision like fireworks. In her current state, she didn't know for sure when she was dreaming or if things were really happening. Like now, she wasn't sure if he was really here or just her imagination. It's something her mind would definitely conjure, a beautiful freckled man with too-long curly black hair and kissable lips. If he'd only touch her, she'd know. Because every time he did, an electrical current zapped through her body.

She'd really like to stare into his dark eyes one more time. Feel his strong arms around her. Press into his chest so she could hear his heartbeat. Run her fingers through those dark locks. Oh God, she'd love to do that. And she wouldn't mind a few stubble burns on her skin, here and there. Mostly there. She didn't think it was possible to be so attracted to someone's voice, either, but his was a deep sexual masterpiece. She could probably get off on that alone.

She'd picked up some information from the women who came into her room each day. Clarke knew she was in the hospital. Why she wasn't sure. Head trauma. That's what they'd said, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember it happening. Must not have been too bad, or she would recall the ordeal. So, if it wasn't serious, it was just a matter of time until she woke.

* * *

It wasn't until an hour later that he realized that something was happening with Clarke, and he needed to stop it. He was beginning to care too much. As soon as she woke and her life got back to normal, she'd go home to Atlanta. Back to the boyfriend her sister-in-law had mentioned. So, Clarke and her guy may have had an argument, but all couples did. Probably just a lovers' spat, and as soon as the guy found out his girl was in trouble, he'd show up here. Even if they were fighting, you didn't just abandon the person you claimed to love. Surely her family had called him and told him what was going on? Her guy would come, and Bellamy really wanted to be out of the picture before that happened.

Maybe the connection was because of the poem. It hit a nerve with him for sure. Roma had used every form of betrayal a person could, and time after time, he'd believed her lies. Wanted to trust her even when everyone around him told him it was a mistake. He should have listened, but he'd loved her. So much. Too much. Should have hated her. But even after all she did to him, he couldn't. It would have been easier if he had.

The elevator dinged and broke his concentration. Good. The way he'd been dwelling on the past for the last two days didn't solve anything. He had enough to deal with babysitting a comatose stranger. A week. He'd give it a week. After that, he was done.

Hell, he had a fence to build. Rugs to buy. Boxes to unpack. Ridiculous foo-foo to distribute. The thought caused him to laugh out loud. Already feeling better, he made his way across the parking lot and got inside his truck. Maybe he'd stop by The Bunker for a beer. Call Miller to meet him there. Bellamy needed to get a report about his friend's date anyway.

He drove past the baseball field, glancing at the scoreboard emblazoned with the two-headed deer, the mascot of AHS – something he'd never understood. They had used to be Savages, with depictions of painted warriors, but after a student protest that made HuffPost, the school was forced to change it.

Lately, he'd had fleeting moments of nostalgia, wishing he could return to those carefree days. Afternoon games. Cheering fans. Before everything went to hell with Roma.

Further down, he turned onto Main Street, scrounged around in the seat for the bottle of antacids he kept in the truck, flipped the plastic lid open, titled it up and shook two tablets into his mouth. The container was almost empty, so he wheeled into the Quick Mart. The way his stomach had been acting up, he couldn't afford to be without the pills. Probably not a good idea to chase them with beer, but what the hell? Maybe one wouldn't hurt.

When he pushed open the door, the attendant glanced up and smiled. She'd been one year behind him in school, he'd remembered, but her name was lost on him. "Hey. How's it going?"

"Pretty slow for a Sunday. What are you up to?"

He strolled to the drug section, grabbed the brand he needed, then met her at the counter. "Meeting Miller for a beer."

"You seeing anybody?"

The question and the quiver in her voice caught him off guard. Wasn't sure if she was coming on to him or thinking about fixing him up. Damn. He hated blind dates. The memory of the last one he'd had caused his stomach to burn even more. Ontari. He'd never forget her name. In town visiting relatives, he'd let Mom talk him into taking the girl to dinner. Ten minutes into the date, Ontari launched into a detailed description of her diet and exercise routine. Honest to God, Bellamy thought she might demonstrate yoga positions right there in the restaurant.

He took a deep breath and decided to use his goodwill to its full extent. "I just started seeing someone." Not a total lie. "How about you?"

She dangled her left hand in the air and wiggled her fingers, light catching the engagement ring. Which was surprising given the meager size of the stone. "I'm engaged. You remember Myles?"

"Sure."

She rang the sale, took Bellamy's money, then handed him his change. "Yeah, well he's out now. We're getting married in June. Anyway, his second cousin will be here next week and I promised I'd get her a date."

What Bellamy was about to do was wrong, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity. "You know who you should ask? Riley."

Her eyes bugged. "Oh my Lord! I hadn't thought of him. He'd be perfect." She swatted the air and shook her head. "Not that you're not perfect. Because you are. You always have been."

"It's okay. I'm not offended. Glad to help."

On the way to his truck, Bellamy chuckled. As much as Bellamy liked his friend, he enjoyed busting his balls even more.

The first thing Bellamy noticed when he stepped inside The Bunker was Miller leaned back in a wooden chair with his feet propped in another. Sprawled in front of the big screen only regarding the Alabama/Auburn game impassively as if he was already nursing a hangover.

Bellamy got a beer at the bar and strolled to where Miller sat. "Rough night?"

"No, just a late one. How'd it go at the hospital?"

Bellamy pulled out a chair and slumped into it, then took a long pull from his bottle. Dealing with Clarke's family was starting to eat up entire afternoons. He couldn't keep it up much longer. Eventually, she was going to wake up, or not, and he didn't want to deal with that. He sighed. "Went okay. I read, and she slept. The usual weirdness."

"According to what you said, she must be able to hear what's going on around her even if she is unconscious. That's good, right?"

Bellamy paused to watch Auburn run a play, then went back to the conversation. "Yeah. She usually opens her eyes once or twice, but it's like she's just staring into space. Not really seeing anything. Dr. Nyko says that's an indication she may be coming out of it."

"Damn! He should have caught that pass. Auburn can't do shit lately." Miller swigged his beer. "You going to keep seeing her until she wakes up?" He grabbed some peanuts from the metal bucket in the center of the table, broke one open and dropped the hulls on the floor.

That's one thing Bellamy liked about the place: by the end of each evening, the whole area was covered in discarded shells adding to the rustic décor. He wondered if the owner considered them foo-foo?

"What are you smiling about?" Miller asked.

"Something Mom said. She's after to me to get my house decorated. But back to your question. Maybe a week. Two at the most. Hell, this could go on for months. I can't commit to that much time."

"Yeah, I already heard there's a big storm brewing up east. If they have a major power outage, we may get some travel time."

Bellamy chuckled. "Oh, I threw Riley's name into a hat for a blind date."

"No, Shit."

When Bellamy finished with the story, Miller leaned his head back, and belly laughed. "Oh man, I hope he accepts, and she turns out to be a nightmare. Riley thinks he's so smooth and such a lady's man, I'd love to see him handle a bad situation."

Bellamy snorted, glad to talk about someone else for a change. "Could backfire on me. She might turn out to be perfect and then I'll be sorry I didn't get her." He tapped his chin thoughtfully.

Miller set his bottle on the table and reached for more nuts. "Speaking of dating. Who is the guy Octavia is seeing?"

Bellamy cocked his head. "What are you talking about?"

"On my way to church, I saw her in the park with some dude I didn't recognize." Miller shrugged and took a swig of his drink.

"Probably just someone she was talking to," he paused, considering. "Since when did you start going to church?"

"Hey, I'm dating Monty. Church is apparently part of the deal." He shook his head. "You may be right about Octavia, but it sure looked like they were together."

He narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, together?" He didn't know about Octavia having a new boyfriend. Of course, after last time, she wouldn't tell him.

Miller took another lengthy sip, undoubtedly knowing where this conversation was headed. Anyone who knew the Blake siblings knew how protective Bellamy was of his sister. "They were sitting next to one another. On a bench. Talking. Looked like a serious conversation."

"How'd he look?" he quizzed.

"I don't know. Tall. Hot. Tatted."

"Older?" he pressed.

Miller shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

"Son of a bitch." He slid back with enough force to scrape the chair against the concrete loudly.

Miller patted down his beanie, as if he was afraid Bellamy's anger would dislodge the cap right off his head. "I take it you know him and don't approve."

Bellamy jumped to his feet, rooting around in his wallet for a bill. "If it's who I think it is, damn right I don't."

* * *

 **Okay, I know I've been promising for a couple chapters that Clarke will be awake soon, AND she will. She'll be awake by April in the speed I'm posting.**

 **ANYWAY, what did you guys think of Aurora? She's a dead/absentee parent in most fics so I had fun writing her being around without drama to accompany.**

 **ALSO, what did you guys think of the trailer?!**


	7. Chapter 7

Lack of confidence had never been a problem for Octavia, but the way she'd talked to Lincoln surprised her. Sure, she had no problem when she tried out for the roller derby, or ran for class officer, or even turned down dates from boys who didn't interest her. But, Lord have mercy, she'd argued her case with Mr. Wonderful like a lawyer closing a deal.

But why not? Regardless of the age difference and the miles between them, he was here now, and she intended to make the most of it. At least find out if the attraction could be more. And when he'd pointed out she should be enjoying her last year of high school, she'd wanted to fall into his arms. That selfless gesture confirmed what she already knew about him. He wasn't playing her.

Spending time with him might be a problem. School, practice, and Friday night games took up most of her time. And seeing him on weekends would be hard if she had to sneak around to do it.

She turned toward home and battled with the decision. No. She wasn't about to plan secret rendezvous. Besides, in this town, keeping anything hush-hush was a joke. She had nothing to be ashamed of and wasn't about to act as if she did.

Pulling her car into the drive, she killed the engine and squared her shoulders, ready to confront her mother head-on. Mom might disapprove, but unless she wanted to lock Octavia in her room, there wasn't much she could do to prevent her from seeing Lincoln.

Butterflies fluttering within her chest, she made her way across the yard and onto the porch. But just as she reached for the knob, Bellamy brought his truck to a screeching halt in front of the house. In a flash he was halfway to her, yelling.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Lincoln is older than I am. Too damn old for you."

Octavia seethed, ready to lay into him.

Mom rushed to join them. "What's the commotion about?" First, she eyed Bellamy, then Octavia, then back to him. "Why are you yelling?"

He locked eyes with his sister. "Tell her. Tell her about the man you're sneaking around to see."

Was he seriously tailing her as if she were a common criminal? The thought made her grit her teeth, fueling her anger with wildfire. Octavia stepped past her mother, then wheeled around to face Bellamy, her nostrils flaring. She tamped down on her anger, if only to show their audience of Mom that she was the level headed one right now. "I hardly call sitting in a public place sneaking."

He stiffened. "Don't start with me. You know what I mean. You shouldn't be in private or public with him."

She jutted out her chin. "You're not the boss of me so butt out of my business." she said in a low voice, silently egging him on. He'd take the bait, too, he always did. Then she could lay into him. He had no business treating her like a little girl incapable of making her own decisions.

Mom put a hand on her hip, placing herself between the two of them, looking back and forth between them. "Would one of you please tell me what's going on?"

Bellamy opened his mouth to speak, but Octavia shoved her hand toward him. "Hush! Not another word." She faced her mom, lowering her voice an octave. Sweetly. "Bellamy's upset because apparently, someone saw me with Lincoln Woods. He's Clarke's cousin. I like him, Mom, and he likes me, and it's none of Bell's concern. I'm eighteen, and he treats me like I'm still twelve."

Bellamy fisted his hands and spoke through clenched teeth. "Well, if you were, he'd still be nineteen still too old for you."

Mom drew her brows together, and Octavia recognized the expression. The one that said she was about to hear numerous examples and stories of her mother's past. God, she knew them all by heart. Devastated by her first love, Bellamy's father. Then losing Octavia's dad. If she had to listen to all of those again, she thought her brain might explode.

She turned away from Bellamy, faced her mother, and matched her gaze. "Before you get all nostalgic, let me remind you of the age difference between mom and my dad."

"She was in her mid-twenties," Bellamy said. "When you're twenty-six and he's thirty-one, you'll have my blessing."

She cut her eyes over at him and smirked. "Just keep quiet. This is between Mom and me. Besides, there is nothing you can say that Lincoln hasn't covered. He's on your side, but I don't care, and no matter what anybody says, I'm going to spend time with him."

Bellamy's nostrils flared, and he opened his mouth ready to argue when Aurora waved her hand, shushing him.

Mom took a deep breath and Octavia braced for the wrath of Aurora. The last time she'd been on the receiving end was age thirteen when Mom found her smoking a cigarette. After two weeks with no electronics, and being forced to write a five-thousand-word essay about how smoking causes lung cancer, Octavia learned her lesson.

"Sounds like you're aware of all the reasons you shouldn't date him, so I won't forbid it."

Bellamy threw his hands in the air. "Mom! What is wrong with you? Lincoln is not some pimple-faced high school boy. He's a grown-ass man with an agenda. Being with her makes him practically a sex offender."

Octavia shoved her brother. "Shut up! Don't say that about him. He's the nicest guy I've ever met. The only one who's ever measured up to you, and I won't let you talk about him that way. Do you understand me?"

Mom stepped between them. "Go to your room and let me have a word with your brother."

* * *

Bellamy's heart raced. Maybe he needed to remind Mom how guys thought about girls. Well, some guys and in his opinion, Lincoln was that type. And the guy had not wasted any time. Within hours of his arrival, he'd met an easy mark. Why not take advantage of an innocent girl while he was in Arkadia? Not with his sister, he wasn't.

Once his sister was out of sight, he glared at his mother. "There's only one thing he wants, and you're making a big mistake. You shouldn't allow her to see him."

"And how do you propose I do that? Take her car? Hire someone to follow her? Tie her to a tree?"

He crossed his arms over his chest. Leave it to his Mom to make him feel like a petty child."Yes."

"No, Bell," she said, and he stopped. He had never heard that tone in his mother's voice before. It sounded motherly. But not in the usual way. It was very… responsible. Authoritative, maybe. "I know in the past I haven't been the take-charge type. I sat back and let you take charge of things after her dad's death and having to work all the time, and, really, I didn't try to take it back again when things became more stable. But things are going to change. You don't have to deal with things by yourself anymore. You don't have to be the only strong one, the rock of the family. That's my role. I know you've given up your childhood to help me raise her and I'm grateful for that. It's something no kid should have to do. But you're not her father, Bell. She needs you to be her brother."

He pinched the bridge of his nose staring at her incredulously, and felt a wave of cold wash over him. "I'm serious, Mom."

She placed her hand on his arm. "I know you are and I appreciate you looking out for your sister. In the eyes of a teenage girl, nothing makes a boy more appealing than to be told she can't see him."

"He's not a boy."

"I know. Same thing." Mom blew out a heavy breath. "This goes back to our earlier conversation. As a parent, all I can do at this point is offer advice. I can't really make her do much of anything. If I do, then it will just push her closer to him. We have to trust she's a good judge of character and this man is as reputable as she claims."

Bellamy's brows raised into his hairline. She wasn't seriously on Octavia's side with dating a guy a year older than Bellamy himself, was she? He was in a sea of uncertainty, and the one thing he was clinging to was being taken from him. He didn't know who he'd be without constantly worrying over his sister.

"He can hurt her," he protested. "I'm talking bad hurt. The kind that can scar you for life. It scares the shit out of me to think about that happening to her." He balled his hands into fists. He'd hurt anyone who harmed her. She was his responsibility.

Mom wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his shoulder, soothing errant curls at the crown of his head. "I hope you picked up on what Octavia said about Lincoln measuring up to you. That's what convinced me to hold my tongue. Thanks to you, she knows what a good man is." She pulled back and looked up at him. "Let's just give her our blessing and see how it plays out. That way, we can have some control. You know, let him visit her here at the house. See how he acts. Get to know him. Okay?"

Like it or not, Mom had some good points. Chances were, Octavia meant what she said about seeing Lincoln no matter what, so this was the best idea. Bellamy could put the guy under the microscope and see how he acted around Octavia. But even if he agreed, it wouldn't stop Bellamy from letting Lincoln know what he thought.

* * *

On Monday, by the time Bellamy finished work, got home, showered and changed, it was almost six when he arrived at the hospital. Lucky for him, Lincoln was still there. He'd hoped as much because he really wanted to set him straight about what would happen if he didn't treat Octavia right.

Bellamy stopped in the doorway and zeroed in on the enemy. Lincoln looked up from the magazine he was reading.

"You and I need to talk," Bellamy said.

"I figured as much." He rose from the chair and moved toward Bellamy. "Let's take this conversation into the hallway."

Once outside the room, Lincoln spun around to face Bellamy. "I know what you're going to say and I agree. Hell, if my little sisters were in this situation, I'd probably feel the same."

Bellamy flinched. The last thing he'd expected was for the guy to agree with him and be straightforward. But he reminded himself sometimes people said what you wanted to hear. "Explain to me what you see in an eighteen-year-old high school girl."

Lincoln stared at the floor, then lifted his head and looked Bellamy in the eye. "I've been asking myself the same question, and I can't explain it. All I know is I haven't been this attracted to a girl in—well, ever. I like her. Really like her. I swear I'm not trying to take advantage of her. And the last thing I want is to hurt her. But I've explained with all we have working against us, that's a big possibility. She doesn't seem to care about that."

Damn. This guy was good. Even Bellamy was affected by his sincerity. He started to speak, but Lincoln cut him off.

"Look, I'm here for just a week, then I go back home. I've thought about it, and the best solution is for me not to come back. If Clarke is still in a coma, I'll skip my turn staying with her. As much as I want to spend time with Octavia, I know it isn't a good idea. Better to nip this in the bud before it goes any further."

Bellamy stuck out his hand begrudgingly. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

Lincoln accepted the handshake, then glanced back into Clarke's room. "Since you're here, I'm going to head back to the motel. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I'll be here at the same time."

* * *

Octavia's emotions had been up and down all day. She still couldn't believe her mother hadn't joined forces with Bellamy. What was up with that? Maybe Mom had finally realized she wasn't a little girl anymore. About time. Being the baby of the family had its advantages, but also plenty of drawbacks. Especially with older siblings thinking they had a say in her life. Not that she didn't appreciate Bellamy watching out for her. She did. But when it came to matters of the heart, she needed to make her own decisions. And so far, Lincoln was the best decision she'd ever made.

She wondered how it would feel to kiss him. To be in his arms. Lay her head on his chest and hear his heartbeat. He was gorgeous for sure. Dark skin, eyes hooded by the kind of thick lashes most girls would die for, and such a beautiful smile. Yep. Killer looks, but it was more than that. There was a gentleness about him, despite the fact he looked like danger. He wasn't all touchy feely like the boys she'd dated who were always poking, pushing or rubbing. Most of the time playfully, but they weren't fooling anybody. Joking around was their way of copping a feel every now and again and making it seem innocent.

When she caught sight of Lincoln, her heart jumped into her throat. How was it he affected her that way? No guy ever had before. Proof positive he was worth fighting for. She rolled down her car window.

"Hey, you."

He jerked toward her. "Octavia! What are you doing here? I thought you'd be at a football game."

She got out of the car and walked toward him. "We have an away game this week."

"You shouldn't be here."

"Why not? I thought you'd be glad to see me."

"Not at my motel. You're going to ruin your reputation and get me run out of town with pitchforks. Go home."

Her eyes stung, but she wasn't going to cry. Not in front of him. She drew a quick breath. "Then come to my house."

"Probably not a good idea."

"Yes, it is. My mother wants to meet you."

* * *

Five glorious days. Finn couldn't believe his good fortune. He'd been able to do as he pleased. No schedules to meet. No spending time with Clarke. And fucking Bree non-stop. Damn. Waking up with her on top of him each morning sure as hell started his day out right. Showering together. Quickies in his office. The car. Kitchen counter. The list was endless. Just when he thought she'd come up with every possible place, she'd surprise him with another one. He had to admit, doing it in the bathroom at the restaurant had been exhilarating.

The best part about it was Clarke lying unconscious in a hospital in that hick town. Lincoln had texted and given Finn all the details. He grinned triumphantly to himself. She couldn't blab about what she'd learned, but eventually she'd come out of it, and Finn would have to deal with her.

For now, he'd put that off by claiming to be out of the country on business. That bought him some time. Of course, he'd offered in his most concerned voice to drop everything and return to sit by her side, knowing they'd refuse. She had her family. She didn't need him. At least not until she regained consciousness.

Playing the part of the perfect boyfriend, he texted several times a day for a progress report. Lincoln had asked why she was in that part of Alabama, of all places, and Finn once again covered his ass with a perfect explanation. Claimed they'd had a bit of a spat about him spending so much time at work. The out-of-country trip had pushed her over the edge. All believable lies. He had to pat himself on the back. He was the Master of Finesse. He'd not met a man or woman he couldn't fool. Hell, he even had Bree convinced they had a future together.

To prevent Clarke from being able to prove anything, he'd moved money and accounts. She'd have a hard time providing any documents to back up her claims, should she make any. If he got her to forgive him for Bree, which he'd swear was just one indiscretion, kind-hearted Clarke would never betray him by revealing any financial wrongdoing. Besides, she was hopelessly in love with him, and nobody could make a wife testify against her husband. Damn. He was good. He chuckled and texted Lincoln back. It was time to give him a return date.

* * *

I like cake and I like pie

In a pinch, cookies get me by

But every time my mood turns downie

Nothing cheers me like a brownie.

Bellamy took a deep breath and closed the journal. Holy shit, if these were meant to be songs, then the music industry was in trouble. Taking into consideration some of the rhymes were written when she was a child, he'd have to cut her some slack. But if he was honest, there had been little improvement unless there was a later catalog of her musings.

Funny, how he thought of so many things he wanted to ask her, and that was wrong. Just plain wrong. He didn't know her and wouldn't know her. As soon as she woke, she'd leave. His self-imposed time limit was almost expired. He'd announce it on Sunday when her family was here.

No doubt Abby and Marcus would be upset, but what did he expect? Bellamy had been more than a good Samaritan. He'd given hours of his time. Not that he had any pressing matters to attend to, but still, he had a life, and these daily visits with no results depressed him.

"How's it going?"

Bellamy turned to see Nyko standing in the doorway. "Okay, I guess. Like always, she's opened her eyes a few times, giggled and grunted once or twice but that's about it." Bellamy stood and moved toward him. "Let's speak in the hallway." He wasn't sure Clarke was listening anymore. Her breath came in a steady rhythm, but he didn't want to take any chances. Once out of hearing range, he faced Nyko again. "I'm going to tell her family this weekend. This has been going on for long enough. I can't keep coming to the hospital every day."

"Maybe hold off on that."

"Why? Do you really think I should keep this up until she wakes? You and Dr. Mbege agree it could take months, and that's even if she wakes up."

"You're right. That's why I will recommend they move her closer to home. It'll be easier for the family. Dr. Mbege might even suggest no hospital stay. Take her home and schedule private health care nurses. Best for everyone concerned. If they go for the idea, you'll be off the hook."

"That is good news. It'll keep me from being the bad guy." He glanced back at Clarke. "I think she must be asleep now so I'm going to head out."

Nyko focused on the monitor. "I think you're right. You coming back tomorrow?"

"You're breaking the news to the family then?"

"Dr. Mbege will be here early, so once I speak with him, if he agrees, then yeah. If you want to tell her goodbye, you should come before noon because the paperwork won't take long. I've already arranged transport with the funeral home."

"Damn. Are you sending her home in a hearse? That's morbid."

"Hey, we just have the one ambulance. I can't send it to Atlanta. We might need it. Besides, she won't know. It'll be fine."

Bellamy ran his palm over his jaw. The thought of her laid out in a funeral wagon made his stomach clench. "I don't like it. Gotta be bad luck or something."

Nyko chuckled and placed his hand on Bellamy's shoulder. "You've grown somewhat attached to her, haven't you?"

He shook his head. "No. I just think hauling her in the back of a body buggy is spooky. I bet her mom won't like it either." He wasn't one for superstitious but the idea of a comatose Clarke being lugged away in a hearse was unnerving. He didn't even like the mental image; he couldn't imagine her family would want to prematurely see their kid the back of a death wagon.

"They're welcome to contract their own, but that will slow her discharge. But either way, by Monday, she should be out of here."

He should be happy about that. He could finally go back to his regular life. Another part of him had grown used to having Clarke around. Just a little. But he was projecting. She was in a coma, the entire thing was one-sided and a bit forced on her family's part.

Bellamy fished in his pocket, pulled out the roll of Tums, then popped a couple into his mouth.

Nyko eyed him. "You still having stomach problems?"

"Yeah. Just indigestion."

"Um-hum. Any coughing? Trouble breathing?"

"No."

"Pain in your throat or chest?"

Bellamy shook his head. "What? You doing an exam right here?"

"Just a few questions. Any fever? Vomiting?"

"None."

"Constipation? Painful urination?"

"Hell no."

Nyko placed his hand on Bellamy's stomach and pushed. "What about your abdomen? Sore or tender to the touch?"

He stepped back. "You're not charging me for this, are you?"

"Friends and family discount." He pulled a prescription pad from his pocket. "Probably have a bit of acid reflux. For the next week, I want you to avoid caffeine and acidic foods. Let's see if that makes a difference. If you don't see a change, then get this filled." He handed Bellamy the prescription. "It's stronger that the over-the-counter stuff you're using."

"No caffeine but I can still drink beer?"

"What if I say no?"

"Too bad. I'm headed to The Bunker."

"None two hours before bedtime."

"Will do, Doc. See you tomorrow."

All the way to the bar, Nyko's plan echoed in Bellamy's head. As much as he wanted to end his obligation, he wasn't sure how he felt about never seeing Clarke Griffin again. Especially the part of her leaving without regaining consciousness. Because of her reaction to his voice, somehow, he thought they had unfinished business. What that was, he had no idea. Could buy into the belief that there was no such thing as coincidence. Everything happens for a reason but that mumbo-jumbo theory didn't hold water. If fate dictated life, then why make plans? Just get up every day and see where destiny takes him? But karma seemed to ride shotgun when it came to rescues. The little girl lost in the woods. The injured girl dangling off a cliff. And now Clarke.

As he drove past the motel, a couple in the parking lot got his attention. Dammit. Octavia with Lincoln. Bellamy made a U turn at the end of the block, then parked down the street within eyesight. He should have never trusted that guy. Hell, it had hardly been an hour since Lincoln handed him that line of bullshit about not hurting her.

Heaving a deep breath, Bellamy reminded himself of what his mother said about pushing Octavia away. He damn sure didn't want to shove her into Lincoln's arms. Besides, maybe as soon as tomorrow, the guy would be out of the picture and Bellamy wouldn't have to worry anymore.

After a few minutes, Octavia got into her car and Lincoln into his. She pulled out of the parking lot with him close behind.

Bellamy shoved his truck into gear. Forget The Bunker. He needed to find out where they were going.

* * *

 **Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments. You make my day. I always get excited reading them.**

 **Anyway, hope you enjoy.**


	8. Chapter 8

Clarke's eyes fluttered open, closed, then open again. She squinted, trying to adjust to the dark, but everything blurred. Where was she? Lately, all her thoughts jumbled together and she couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. Even now, she must be dreaming because nothing looked familiar. She tried to push up on her elbows, but couldn't. What was that about? Was she strapped down?

Panic rose in her throat. Oh, God. Was she paralyzed? She kicked her legs and flailed her arms. Thank God. Everything moved but not well. She had something wrapped around her right wrist. She lifted it above her face and stared at the bandage. A cast. But why? Had she broken a bone? Where? When?

Then she brought her left hand into view. Like a science fiction movie, tubes connected to her arm. What a strange dream.

The harder she thought, the more her head pounded. Okay. Calm down. Relax. Think happy thoughts and you can change the dream. Happy. Happy. Happy. Breathe in. Out. In. Out. Think about him. Yeah. That's better. He'd been here earlier. Reading those silly poems. She liked those. And the sound of his voice. The way he smelled. Like air after a rain. She liked when he touched her. The way he played with her fingers. Oh, she especially liked that.

She wanted him to come back and she could get him here. All she had to do was concentrate. Picture him in her mind. Brown eyes. Black hair. Strong jaw. She released a slow, steady breath. The thought of him made things happen. Her body heated and the way she tingled was like someone had sprinkled confetti on her skin. Everything was okay. No way she'd feel this good otherwise. With that last thought, she drifted into sleep.

* * *

Bellamy breathed a sigh of relief when the two vehicles he followed turned onto his mother's street. But his respite was short lived. What if Mom wasn't home? His mind raced. Was this her night for the ladies' sewing club? Well, if it was, he wasn't about to let those two get inside the house. With the garage door closed, he couldn't tell if Mom's car was there.

He palmed his cell and punched in her number. She answered on the second ring.

"Hey, Mom. You home?"

Something in his voice must had triggered her, because she sounded worried. "Yes. Why? Oh no, did something happen?"

"No. Calm down. Nothing's wrong. I just wanted to make sure you were there because Octavia is pulling into the drive with Lincoln Woods right behind her."

"Are you following your sister?"

"Not on purpose. I just happened to see them in the parking lot of the motel and decided I should make sure he wasn't up to no good. Don't tell her, okay?"

"What? What did you see?"

Finally he was getting a reaction he wanted.

"Nothing, but-"

She cut him off.

"Okay. But you've got to trust her, Bell," she chastised. "If not, you're going to put a strain on your relationship."

"I do trust her. But not him. He's a guy. I'm an expert in that department and I'm not about to let him take advantage of her even if she never speaks to me again. I'll talk to you later."

Bellamy disconnected, made a U-turn, and headed downtown. By the time he got to The Bunker, Miller had Monty in arm twirling him around the dance floor. A local band, twanged one of Tim McGraw's early songs. Bellamy leaned against the counter and ordered a long neck, then took a slow pull. Damn. Nothing tasted better than a cold one at the end of the day. He sure as hell hoped he didn't have to give up beer to cure his stomach problem.

He figured it had more to do with stress than any physical ailment. He worried too much. About Octavia. Mom. Hell, he needed to stop agonizing over things he couldn't do anything about.

"Hey, Bellamy." Monty leaned into him for a half-hug. "How have you been?"

"Good. You?"

"Doing a lot better now that we're getting close to Christmas break. Octavia and I are counting the days."

"How is she working out? Doing a good job for you?"

Monty flapped his hand in the air. "She's great. I'm thankful every day for the high school work program. I love having her in my room. She is so good with the kids. I think she might follow in my footsteps. She'd be a great teacher."

Bellamy craned his neck to look past Monty. "Where'd Miller get off to?"

"Bathroom." He cocked his head and widened his eyes. "So, he tells me you're keeping company with a coma patient. That must be interesting. Kind of puts the pressure on you to keep the conversation going, doesn't it?"

Miller appeared at Monty's side and answered the question before Bellamy could. "He likes it that way. You know. Being in charge."

Bellamy knit his brows together. "What do you mean by that?"

"Just that you like making decisions. Taking the lead. Being the boss."

Miller's attitude gave Bellamy pause. His stomach clenched. "Have I pissed you off somehow?"

"No. I'm not mad. I'm just saying maybe that stomach pain you're having is because you take on the weight of the world. You feel responsible for everybody. Even the girl in the hospital. I can't think of any other guy in town who'd do what you're doing."

"So, you don't think I should?"

Monty stepped between them. "Simmer down, both of you. Come on, Nate. Dance with me." Monty led him to the dance floor.

Bellamy finished his beer and thought about leaving. Miller's smartass remark had put a damper on any good time Bellamy might have. Had he been too bossy? His job entailed issuing orders. Miller had one more year of apprenticeship before he could make calls alone. Maybe he was jealous about the rescue attention. Whatever it was, Bellamy needed to get it straight. In their jobs, they had to have each other's backs. No room for anger or hurt feelings. Not when messing with high voltage.

The song ended and Miller joined Bellamy again. "Hey man, sorry about before," Miller said. "I'm just in a pissy mood. Monty's ex is coming for the weekend."

"Who?"

"Gaia Wendell is the girl Monty dated last summer. He's going out with her tomorrow night."

"So we're good?"

Miller slapped him on the shoulder. "Yeah. Like I said, it's me, not you. I thought Miller and I were kind of exclusive. You know? But we've just started dating. It's not like we're going steady."

"Hang in there. This girl is just here for the weekend, then she'll go back to Mississippi. By the time her next visit rolls around, y'all probably will be in a relationship."

"Yeah. Maybe. So, how's the girl?"

"Nyko is gonna recommend sending her back to Atlanta to recuperate." Bellamy glanced at his watch. "Her family is probably here by now. Nyko plans to consult with her other doctor tomorrow and if he agrees, she'll be gone. He's sending her home in one of funeral's meat wagons."

"You're fucking with me."

"Nope."

"Hello, handsome."

Bellamy recognized the voice even before he turned around.

"Hey, Dr Tsing. How are you?"

She slid an arm around his waist and pressed against him. Holy hell. He needed to get away from her.

"You don't have to call me that, like I'm some old doctor. Not the way I'd like for you to think of me. Call me Lorelei."

Bellamy knew that to be a fact. During their Valentine date last year, she'd been more like a cop doing a body search. "Sorry. My mother taught me to be respectful of my elders."

She laid her palm on his chest. "I'd like you to think of me more as a friend. Especially with the banquet right around the corner. This year instead of going out to dinner, I've arranged a little soiree for the two of us at my house. Already booked a chef."

"I guess you haven't heard. I've told Octavia I'm not taking part in the bachelor auction this time."

Tsing gasped and clutched her throat. "What? No! You have to participate. I've already made plans."

"Sorry…"

Bellamy's phone chimed. He glanced down, then pressed it to his ear. "Hello—yes. Ten minutes." He clicked off and stared at Miller, who seemed to be enjoying himself a little too much.

"That was Nyko. The girl is awake. I have to go."

He didn't give his friend or Dr Tsing time to say anything, just turned on his heel and hightailed it out of there. Talk about perfect timing. Clarke had rescued him from a fate worse than a car accident.

This was the best news he'd gotten in weeks. Not only was Clarke awake, she'd be leaving and he could stop obsessing over her. In the short time he'd known her, if he could call it that since the acquaintance had been one-sided, he'd connected with her. Maybe through those stupid songs she'd written, or just by being in her presence. Whatever the reason, he could get back to his life. But his heart doesn't like that idea.

The only car he recognized in the small parking lot belonged to the rental company. Another sigh of relief. Lincoln was here and no longer with Octavia. And now with this latest development, the guy had no reason to stay in Arkadia or ever return. The best news was he'd not been here long enough for Octavia to feel more than infatuation. No broken heart. God, Bellamy would love to spare her that pain for a few more years.

He swung into a space, jumped from the truck and sprinted to the entrance. When he got to the third floor, Marcus and Lincoln sat in the waiting area.

Bellamy shook hands with her godfather. "How's she doing?"

"We haven't seen her yet. But I think she's okay. The doctors are with her. I've got to call Abby, she had to return to Atlanta for work, but I'm sure she'll return once she learns Clarke's awake."

"Complications?"

"I don't think so." He looked past Bellamy. "Here he comes."

Bellamy stepped aside as Nyko approached and focused on Marcus.

"She's fine. Still a bit fuzzy but that should clear up in time. She's probably going to drift in and out for a while. Just be patient. Her vitals are all good but she may have headaches. No reason for alarm unless the pain becomes severe, or she has dizziness."

"Can we see her?" Lincoln asked.

"Sure. But keep the visit short and don't bombard her with questions. Dr. Mbege will be here in the morning to assess her condition."

As Nyko strolled away, Bellamy turned to Marcus. "I'm going to head home."

"Nonsense. If I know Clarke, she'll want to thank you for helping her."

Bellamy didn't want to argue, not that it'd do any good. Kane had a way about him. Assertive to a fault. "Okay. Sure."

He followed the pair into the dimly lit room. Clarke didn't look much different than all those times she'd briefly opened her eyes while he read to her. Except now, she sat with her back propped against pillows. She glanced from Marcus to her cousin, before settling her eyes on Bellamy. She smiled and stretched her arms out as if she wanted him to pull her up straighter. Bellamy moved to her. But when he got within reach, she fisted his shirt in her left hand and pulled him down until his face was next to hers. Then—pressed her lips to his.

Holy shit. One kiss wasn't enough because when he pulled away a half second later, she closed the gap and came back for more. His brain spun. What the hell was happening? As if the connection between his brain and limbs were severed, he wrapped his hand in her hair. Her lips were soft and warm as they moved against him. All rational thought vanished. He'd been so fixated on diminishing ties with her family while she'd been unconscious, the excitement he felt now was borderline explosive.

He'd never responded this way to a girl before, not even Roma. Perhaps it was because of all the pent up energy, or all the time he'd spent obsessing over her, but he wanted to carry her home and make her scream his name.

Finally, she broke the lip lock and gazed up at him as if he was the only person in the world. He blinked rapidly, trying to splice together what just happened, searching her eyes questioningly.

She drew a deep breath, then whispered against his lips.

"I love you."

* * *

 **Thank you for reading and reviewing! I love love love reading them and they always put a smile on my face. No matter how simple. Thank you guys.**

 **Short chapter, sorry, but Clarke is finally awake!**


	9. Chapter 9

Bellamy's heart hammered and his stomach spiraled. Holy hell. Did she just say she loved him? That couldn't be right. She'd never met him. The statement about her being fuzzy was an understatement. She was slap-dab out of her mind.

Even if his heart was traitorously doing leaps in his stomach.

Before he could say anything, she moved in close for another kiss. He backed away. "Uh, we really shouldn't be doing this in front of an audience." He pointed to the slack-jawed spectators.

Clarke scanned the room. "You're right. I'm sorry. Would y'all mind stepping outside, I'd like to make-out with my boyfriend."

Marcus rushed to her bedside. "Clarke, he isn't your boyfriend. You don't even know him."

She frowned and huffed. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course, I know him." She stopped and rolled her eyes, then stared at the ceiling. "He's—okay, maybe I can't think of his name right now, but I know who he is, and did you call me Clarke? What kind of name is that?"

Bellamy snapped his head toward the doctor. "What's going on?"

Nyko held up a finger. "Just a minute." He turned to her. "Do you know your name?"

Pulling her brows tight, she placed fingers to her head. "I'm not sure. Wait. It's Elyza. Yeah. That's it." Then she zeroed in on Bellamy again. "And his name is…" She brought her hand to her mouth and pressed it against her lips.

Bellamy couldn't stand it anymore. The sooner he made her realize she'd didn't know him, the sooner he could leave. "It's Bellamy."

She smiled up at him with the same adoration as before, like a chick hatching from its egg and imprinting on the first thing she saw. "Yeah. That sounds right. My brain is sort of fuzzy." Turning to face her godfather and cousin, she narrowed her eyes and cocked her head. "Am I supposed to know both of you?" She finally took in her surroundings, looking around the drab white room. "Why am I in a hospital?"

"Sweetie, it's Marcus, your godfather, and this is your cousin. You had an accident."

She blinked and then blinked again. "I don't know." She shook her head, as if trying to dislodge the thoughts from her head. "I don't know you."

Lincoln stepped forward. "Cut the crap, Clarke. I know you're jacking with us, but this little act isn't funny. We've been worried sick about you."

Ignoring him, she turned back to Bellamy, her chin high and commanding. "I don't like him. Make them leave."

Bellamy faced Nyko again. "Do something."

"Okay. All right. I think it will be a good idea for everyone to clear the room and let me have a moment with Miss Griffin."

She grabbed Bellamy's hand, her nails digging into his palm, her demeanor suddenly tense. "Not you. I want you to stay."

He gave her fingers a little squeeze. "Let the doctor examine you. When he's done, I'll be back."

"You promise?" She apprehensively loosened the grip on his hand. Tension slowly trickled from her shoulders. Clarke was quick to dole out commands when he was by her side, as if she truly believed that she was safe with him. He didn't quite know how he felt about that. She felt as if she knew him, but she was a stranger to him.

"Yes."

Once again, Bellamy followed the family into the hallway. When out of hearing distance, Lincoln spun around. "What the hell have you been doing during your visits?"

Bellamy thinned his lips into a tight line. "Calm your ass down. I've not done a thing that would be considered inappropriate. I don't know where she got the idea I'm her boyfriend. I'm as shocked as you by that little revelation."

Marcus stepped between them. "Both of you settle down. Clearly, she's confused you for Finn. That's something she remembers, at least. That's a good sign, don't you think?"

"I don't think so, Kane. She thinks her name is Elyza. Where the hell did that come from?"

Her book, he wanted to say.

"Let's just wait and see what the doctor says." He ran his hand over his face and heaved a breath. "I'm worn out." He turned and walked to the waiting area where he plopped down onto the couch.

Lincoln and Bellamy joined him. For a moment, no one spoke. Bellamy figured their heads were spinning just like his. He'd known from the beginning this wasn't a good idea, but he'd let them convince him otherwise. Now things were more complicated. He sure as hell hoped they didn't expect him to pretend to be her boyfriend because that wasn't happening. He was not about to play cutesy with an amnesiac, no matter what her crazy family said. It wasn't right.

After fifteen agonizing minutes, Nyko approached and all three men stood.

"Well, physically, she's fine, but mentally, there's a problem. I've spoken to both Abby and Dr. Mbege and he'll be here in about an hour, but I can give you a brief overview if you like."

"Please do." Marcus glanced at Lincoln and Bellamy. "We all need to know what's going on."

Nyko motioned for them to sit again, and he took the seat across from them. "The list of what a traumatic brain injury can cause is quite long. Everything from peculiar behavior, loss of sense of self-identity, inability to recognize people, places and objects, all the way to the point of psychosis."

Her father leaned forward. "But it's temporary, right?"

"That's the good news. Her MRI and CT scans appear normal. If Dr. Mbege concurs, which I think he will, then Clarke has retrograde amnesia, which means the loss of memory for events surrounding the trauma and for some time frame prior to the injury. It can last hours, days, or in rare cases, forever."

Marcus jumped to his feet. "Are you saying she may never remember us?"

"No. No. I need for you to be aware of the possibility, but it is extremely uncommon."

"But when her memory comes back, it'll come all at once and she'll be okay, right?"

Nyko took a deep breath and Bellamy was pretty sure Clarke's family wasn't going to like the answer.

"Once recovered, it can be partial or complete. Spotty or fully rendered. It can come suddenly or in spurts over any timeframe. It can be real, imagined, confabulation, or any combination. Clarke thinking Bellamy is her boyfriend may very well fall into the confabulation category. Her brain made it up to fill in a gap."

"Let me try to understand this," Bellamy sputtered. "She remembers she has a boyfriend, and she's replaced him with me?"

"I think so."

"But why?"

"That I can't answer, and I'm reasonably certain no other doctor can either. When she woke, she wanted to know how she got here. She doesn't remember the accident. The last thing she remembers is some book. That's probably where thinking her name is Elyza comes in. Again, the brain is complicated. A person can actually experience amnesia with no physical trauma. A disturbing experience can bring it on. The best example is a victim of sexual abuse blocking out the experience, only years later to remember it."

"So what now?" Marcus asked. "We just wait and see?"

"Yes. Physically, I have no reason to keep her here, and that creates another crisis. She's adamant about Bellamy taking her home."

Now it was Bellamy's turn to jump to his feet. "No way! I can't take her to my house."

Marcus put his hand on Bellamy's forearm in an effort to calm him down. "Not so fast. You said you weren't in a relationship, and since you're the only one she knows or at least thinks she does, maybe you could let her stay with you for just a couple of days."

Bellamy couldn't believe his ears. Was the whole damn family insane? Evidently, they were – they were willing to let a vulnerable Clarke go home with him. "Look, you don't know me. I can't believe you want your daughter to move in with a complete stranger."

"You're not exactly a stranger. My profession keeps me from trusting people, so I had you checked out. Sorry, but if you were spending time with my little girl, I had to find out what kind of man you are. Turns out, you're damn near perfect."

He clenched his jaw. Marcus had looked into his background? The thought irked him. It wasn't like he was the only adamant one about Clarke staying with him. No matter what he did, he couldn't seem to shake off this family. Marcus Kane wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Well, perfect or not, I'm a man and according to the way she kissed me, and thinking I'm her boyfriend, she's going to expect me to act like one. I can't do that. I won't do it. I'm sorry, but you'll have to find a way to convince her to go back to Atlanta with you." He didn't have the willpower to deal with Clarke, not in his home, where he was unable to escape her. Even if he wanted too.

"He's right, Kane," Lincoln cut in. "We've imposed on him enough. Finn texted and said he'd be back in the country Monday night, so maybe once she sees him, she'll get the boyfriend thing straight."

Marcus frowned. "Frankly, I don't care if she ever remembers him. Even though he checked out, I've never liked that guy. Something about him doesn't sit well with me. Can't put my finger on it, but I can't understand why he didn't drop everything and return home once he found out Clarke was in a coma." He bellowed, "A coma for God's sake! What kind of man doesn't show up when the woman he loves has a brain injury? I would've dropped everything for Callie..." he tapered off, running his hands through his hair.

He'd like to know, too. Whoever this jackass was, he didn't deserve Clarke. But what did he know? Maybe this Finn guy was perfect for her, and he sure as hell wasn't going to be happy when he came to Arkadia looking for his girl, only to find an amnesiac shacked up with the wrong guy. The last thing he needed to deal with was some fucked up love triangle. All it needed was some werewolves and vampires and it'd be straight out of the teeny novels O and other girls fawned over.

Marcus faced Nyko. "Can you keep her in the hospital a few more days? Now that she's awake, maybe that's all it will take to clear her head."

Bellamy stood behind Marcus, widening his eyes and shaking his head erratically at Nyko in hopes the doctor would side with him.

Nyko either didn't notice, or ignored his silent protests. Probably the latter.

"I'll see what Dr. Mbege has to say. He may think it's a good idea to do just that. But you realize you're only prolonging the inevitable. If she remembers you or not, at some point, we have to dismiss her."

"BELLAMY!"

Bellamy jumped. Holy hell, she was yelling at him. "I'd better go see what she wants before she wakes the whole floor." He hurried down the hallway to her room, stopping to linger at the threshold. "What do you need?"

Her bottom lip quivered and glassy blue eyes stared back at him. "I thought you'd gone."

His heart fell into his stomach as he moved to the edge of the bed and sat next to her, then took her hand. "I promised I'd come back. I wouldn't have left without telling you."

She leaned forward and rested her head on his shoulder and for the life of him, he couldn't help but put his arms around her. "Are you sure you don't remember Marcus? Think hard. Maybe something from your childhood. A birthday or Christmas."

Her breath hitched. "I'm sorry. I can't. He seems like a nice man but I don't know him. Where is my dad? I want to see him."

He shouldn't be the one to tell her this, but there was no way to avoid it. He wasn't going to lie outright to her. "Clarke, your dad died years ago."

She leaned away and gazed into his eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I don't have a dad anymore?"

"No," he swallowed. "I'm sorry."

She slumped against his chest and wept. "So if I go home, I'll be with a bunch of people I don't know? I don't want to do that. I want to go home with you."

Out of the question. "Clarke…"

She pushed away again. "No. Listen. The doctor said I'm in Arkadia and this is where you live. So, I was coming to see you, right?"

He didn't know what to say. Didn't want to lie, but the desperation in her eyes broke his heart.

"I wasn't expecting you."

"So, my visit was a surprise?" She put her hand to her head. "Maybe I remember that."

"You do?"

She rubbed her temple. "Maybe. I don't know. Are you mad at me?"

"Why would I be angry?"

"You don't act like you're happy to see me."

He pulled her into his arms again. "Nothing makes me happier than you waking up. I was worried about you. So, yeah, I am glad to see you."

She pressed her lips to his neck. "I love kissing you here. You smell nice."

Warm breath floated across his skin, and he shivered with ecstasy. She felt good in his arms. Too good.

"If you don't want me to go to your house, then maybe I can rent a hotel room and stay in Arkadia for a while. When my cast comes off, I can get a job. Or do I already have one?"

Before Bellamy could answer, Marcus spoke from behind him. "Yes, you do. In my office. You're my receptionist."

"Oh. That doesn't sound familiar. I thought I might be a waitress."

"Well, you worked at the Dairy Queen when you were in high school, but not since then."

She frowned. He could almost see the thoughts in her head, weaving and connecting a mile a minute, trying to put some semblance of her life together. "Did I go to college?"

"For a while."

"Am I not smart?"

Bellamy laughed so hard the bed shook.

She jabbed his shoulder. "That's not funny."

"Sorry, but I thought it was."

Marcus moved closer. "You're plenty smart. Made almost 1500 on your SAT. You just didn't like college."

Leaning back against her pillows, she looked at Marcus. "So, I guess I have to ask you for time off."

"Don't be silly. You can take all the time you need. I'm just so thankful you're all right." His voice broke and he turned away, shielding himself from Clarke as he fought back tears.

God, Bellamy hated when people cried; there was something so inherently comfortable about it. He stood and moved away from the bed to let Marcus get closer to his goddaughter.

He leaned down to embrace her and she stiffened.

"I love you, Clarke."

"I'm sorry I don't remember you," she said. "Can you tell me something about my childhood?"

He leaned away and smiled. "I've been friends with your family since Jake and I were in college. Doctor's always told your mother she would never be able to have children, but she wouldn't take that for an answer. You're like her in that aspect. When your mother got pregnant, she had her heart set on a girl, but we all thought you were a boy."

Bellamy studied Clarke's face for any sign of recognition, and although she listened intently, he saw none. Maybe by the end of the tale, regardless of what Nyko had said about memories trickling in, something would spark and all her past would flood back at once. She'd go home and he'd wouldn't have to feel so guilty.

Marcus continued. "During delivery, the doctor announced you were a girl and your mother didn't believe him. She looked at Jake and said, "'Is it true? I had a girl?' To which he replied, it's true. They'd not picked out a girl's name, so she named you Clarke Aliehs. It's Sheila spelled backward. That's your grandmother's name, so she's Sheila Clarke and you're Clarke Aliehs."

She pulled her brows together as if rearranging the letters. "So, you pronounce it Alise? Wow. I thought Clarke was weird. Now I find out I have two crazy names. Thank goodness I don't remember school because I bet I was teased a lot."

"Not with me around. I never let anyone mess with family," Lincoln said. He cut his eyes toward Bellamy. "Still don't."

She glanced at Bellamy then back at her cousin. "I saw that look. Why don't you like Bellamy?"

"Never said I didn't like him."

"You don't have to. I could tell from your expression. You'd best be changing your mind because I love him with all my heart and nothing will change that." She glared at her surrogate dad. "What about you? Do you approve of him?"

"Yes, I do. I think he's a fine young man."

Clarke closed her eyes for a second and then opened them again. "I'm really tired."

That's all she managed to say before she drifted off to sleep.

Nyko motioned for everyone to leave and once in the hallway, Marcus turned to Bellamy. "Tell me what I can do to convince you to let Clarke stay with you for a while."

Bellamy's phone dinged. "Just a second." He scrolled and read Miller's text. Tsing called Monty. Guaranteed bid 6K for you. Dude. O won't let you out of this. "There is one thing."

"Name it and it's yours."

"I want Lincoln to take my place in the annual Valentine Bachelor for Bid Auction."

* * *

"Done."

Lincoln had no idea what the auction entailed, but he was pretty sure it must be something bad if hometown hero wanted no part of it. On top of that, it messed up his plan of never returning to Arkadia and seeing Octavia again. Every time he saw her all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and kiss her senseless, and that was not good.

He kept telling himself as soon as he got back home he could forget all about the beautiful teenager. Damn, the word made his chest burn.

"Hold on just a minute, Kane. You can't make decisions for me. I may not want to take part in the event." He glared at Bellamy. "I assume it's auctioning men off like pieces of meat. Right?" Plenty of his exes had watched exploitative television like The Bachelorette and its male counterpart. He couldn't imagine having to deal with being treated like a new toy all the kids wanted to get their hands on. "I could have reserve that weekend," he protested.

Bellamy ignored him. "That's a crude description. The money raised goes to a lot of worthy causes. One date. Spend an evening with the person who wins you and then it's over. They even pick up the tab for whatever you choose to do."

It still sounded a bit exploitative to him.

Marcus placed his hand on Lincoln's shoulder. "In this case, Clarke is the worthy cause. We should be trying to help her get over this memory block. You saw the difference in her. We need to help her get back to her old self."

Bellamy interrupted. "What do you mean by different?"

"She would have never told someone she didn't like them. Clarke's always been sensitive and kind and thoughtful of others feelings. And what she said about her name. That's crazy. She's always loved the story of how it came about and that her middle name is connected to her mother. No, the Clarke we just saw is nothing like she should be." He tapped his chin, contemplative.

Then he turned to Lincoln. "You have to do this, Lincoln. It's such a small thing, I won't allow you to refuse."

He was right. What kind of cousin would he be if he wasn't willing to sacrifice for her? But then again, Bellamy wanted him away from his sister so there must be more to this than he was saying. "Hold on a minute. I don't have to parade around in a speedo, do I? Because if that's the case, there's no way in hell I'm doing it. Good luck talking Wells into that one, too."

Bellamy shook his head. "No speedo. You can wear whatever you like. Everything from jeans to a tuxedo."

"Then what's the catch? Don't say there isn't one because you and I both know you want me out of town as soon as possible, and this just brings me right back. So level with me or no deal."

Before Bellamy could answer, Marcus spoke to him. "Why do you want Lincoln to leave?"

"No concern of yours, Kane. It's between…."

Marcus pinned him with a glare strong enough to start a fire. Lincoln knew that look all too well. He'd seen it plenty of times over the years. He was never able to get away with anything without the old man finding out. Kane had become a father figure to him ever since his skipped out when his mom died and he'd been sent to live with his grandmother. Everything from missing curfews to getting drunk. It was like he had Lincoln under surveillance. Maybe he had.

No need to avoid the subject.

"I've been seeing Octavia. Sort of."

Marcus jerked his head so hard he probably got whiplash. "Bellamy's sister? His teenage sister? Don't you think she's a little young?" he chastised. As an attorney, his firm had enough cases with dubious consent with one party being a minor.

"Yes, I do, but I like her. And before you jump to any sordid conclusions, we're just friends. That's all."

"And I don't want it to go any further because I don't want her changing her plans for some temporary romance," Bellamy huffed, glaring at Lincoln.

"Let's get back to the main subject," Lincoln held his hands up in surrender. "Since you seem to be this town's native son, why don't you want to take part in the auction?"

Bellamy ran his hand over his face. "Okay. I'll come clean. There's this older woman who won the bid last year and I had to fight her off during our date. I'm not looking to repeat that experience."

"So, you want me to deal with her."

"No. I just want you to fill my spot. She may or may not bid on you."

"How old is the woman?"

"Fifty."

Now Lincoln risked whiplash and focused on Marcus. "You should take part. You're her age. It's for charity." He grinned mockingly at his surrogate dad.

Marcus shook his head. "If she bids on younger men, she wouldn't be interested in an old guy. But this isn't about me, it's about you. So what will it be? For Clarke's sake. You in or out?"'

"Of course, I'm in. I'll even convince Wells to take part, just so Luna will bid on him."

Bellamy stuck out his hand, tamping down on the nervous rolling in his stomach. "Then it's a deal. I'll let her stay with me for a week."

Lincoln held his hand out then pulled it back. "Two."

"What?"

His expression flickered for a moment, but the grin stayed firmly in place. "You gotta let her stay two weeks or no deal."

* * *

Bellamy should be ashamed for using Clarke's welfare as a bargaining chip, but when it came to Lorelei Tsing, desperation kicked in. Having Clarke as a housemate for two weeks would be the lesser of two evils. What little time they'd be together, he'd avoid lying to her. At least outright. Well, the relationship was one big—scratch that, colossal lie. But once her memory returned, she'd understand what he'd done was for her benefit, not his. His biggest challenge would be to figure out a way to sleep with her, but not have sex. After the way she kissed him, that would not be easy.

"I want the two of you to understand how difficult this will be. You saw how she was with me."

"That's another major change," Marcus said. "The old Clarke used to complain about PDA."

Down the hall, Bellamy caught a glimpse of Nyko and called out to him. "Hey, can I have a word?"

Seconds later, he joined the trio. "What's up?"

"We've reached an agreement. Clarke can stay with me for two weeks. After that, they'll have to make other arrangements."

Nyko eyed Bellamy, silently wondering if he knew what he was getting himself into. "You sure about this?"

He sighed, exasperated. "No, but I'm going to do it. How much longer can you keep her here?"

"Don't know. I'll abide by whatever Dr. Mbege recommends."

Bellamy glanced at Marcus and Lincoln, then turned his attention back to Nyko. "Can I speak to you privately?"

"Sure."

Bellamy walked down the hallway with Nyko on his heels, then turned to face him. "I have a request."

"What?"

He lowered his voice an octave. "I need for you to tell her she can't have sex."

Nyko pulled his brows together. "You realize it will be unethical for me to lie to her."

Bellamy pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look. I don't want you to break your oath, but you've got to come up with something. You saw how she acted. She was all over me. I can't have that. If something isn't done to protect me from her advances, then I'll have to tell her what's going on."

"As her physician, I wouldn't recommend it. At least, not at first. She's going to suffer enough anxiety because she can't remember things, but telling her this lie of yours might cause even more. You're her only lifeline, Bellamy. The one person she trusts. Break that, and it might not be good for her." Nyko pretended to thumb through the chart on another patient's door.

He quirked an eyebrow. "So it's alright for us to lie to her, but not you? You know this entire plan is whack."

"Hey, I didn't come up with this plan and I'm not condoning it. It'll be stressful for her to return to Atlanta since she doesn't have any recollection of her family, but I'm not sure this plan is any better."

"Well then, just keep her in the hospital or send her to some kind of rehab."

"You're missing the point," he emphasized. "She knows you. Depends on you. Feels safe with you." He held up his hand. "I know what you're going to say and you're right. That's all a lie. But not in her mind. Thus, the problem."

Bellamy rubbed the back of his neck, then pulled the antacids from his pocket and popped a couple in his mouth.

Nyko eyed him. "You should probably go ahead and get that script I gave you filled. I have a feeling you're going to need it."

"No shit." He glared.

Nyko's phone dinged and he glanced at the screen. "I have to go. Dr. Mbege is waiting in my office. As soon as I know something, I'll let you know."

When Bellamy returned, Marcus waited, but Lincoln had disappeared. Probably went to see Octavia and Bellamy didn't like the thought of that. But this gave him one last opportunity to convince Clarke's godfather this harebrained scheme might not be a good idea.

Bellamy scrubbed a palm over his face. Clarke and her entire family were so mind-bogglingly exhausting, he felt like he could lay down and nap for a week. "I want to make sure you're clear about the situation you're putting Clarke in. My house has one bedroom, which means we'll be sleeping together. Knowing how she feels about me—or thinks she feels about me, you good with that?"

"Even if I'd not checked you out, the fact you're asking tells me you're an honorable man," Marcus said.

"Yeah, well I may not be that righteous. She's already questioning why I'm not more affectionate so that's going to be a big problem. I'm not sure how I'm going to deal with it." He really wanted to stress what a bad idea this was.

Marcus placed his hand on Bellamy's shoulder and squeezed roughly. "I trust you to do the right thing."

It sounded like a threat.

"There's just one problem. I don't know what that is. Let's just pray she gets her memory back sooner than later because if she doesn't this could blow up and she might never forgive you. Are you willing to risk that?" Come on, take the bait, he thought.

"Right now, I'm willing to risk any and everything to get my daughter back." It had been the first time he referred to Clarke as his daughter, not just Abby's daughter, or his goddaughter. He went above and beyond his duties as a godparent. He treated Clarke as if she were his own, just like Octavia's dad had treated him the same as he did his kin.

Both his eyebrows rose into his hairline. He hadn't expected that. "Even her having sex with a stranger?" He absolutely had no intent on forming any sort of relationship with Clarke beyond begrudging housemate. Surely Marcus wouldn't agree to such an atrocity. He had to see reason.

Marcus swallowed hard and stared at him for a long moment, deathly silent. His eyes were distant, and Bellamy got the impression that he was looking through him, not at him.

"Yes," he croaked, as if the thought had physically pained him. "Even that."

Holy hell. Things were going from bad to worse. That eerie calm settled over the two of them – like the silence before the storm. Bellamy had an overwhelming sensation of standing in the eye of a tornado.

None of this was going to end well.

* * *

Two hours later, Bellamy and Marcus waited for Dr. Mbege and Nyko to finish their evaluation of Clarke. Bellamy had taken the opportunity to learn as much about her as he could because he knew she would have questions, and for this charade to be successful, he needed to have answers. He and Marcus had fallen into a companionable conversation which surprised Bellamy. He'd thought the man would be apprehensive given the circumstances, but if he was, he didn't show it. He supposed that came from his profession. Lawyers hid their emotions better than most. Especially criminal attorneys.

One thing had been crystal clear. Clarke Aliehs Griffin was Marcus's pride and joy. Especially if he was willing to risk the wrath of both Griffin women.

Fourteen days. Not a lifetime. Surely he could pull this off. Make it through Thanksgiving, then send her back home, right along with Lincoln. She'd probably willfully run for the hills if Aurora served up crispy pata and whiskey rhubarb pie. After that, Bellamy only had to worry about Octavia's crush returning for the auction.

He took a deep breath. Yeah, he looked forward to when the Griffin-Kane-Woods-whatever clan would be out of his life—forever.

* * *

 **Ha! How's that for revelations :P Who expected that.**

 **Thank you to everyone who read and left comments last chapter, its always fun to get a message. I spent nearly a year writing this story and I'm so happy people are actually enjoying it. Thank yall! (and we're also 20 days away from t100 yay!)**


	10. Chapter 10

At the sound of Lincoln's voice, Finn broke out in a cold sweat. Usually, updates were done via text messages, so when the phone rang and he saw who it was, fear as forceful as a hurricane twisted his insides. But the news couldn't have been better than if he'd waved a magic wand and put her under a spell. Clarke was awake, but had no memory! There really must be a God and He was trying to make up for the hell he'd put Finn through. If things went well, Finn just might forgive Him. Time would tell.

Not only was Clarke clueless about her previous life, her family didn't want Finn visiting. Not yet. They'd arranged for her to stay in Arkadia, wherever the hell that was, in hopes she'd regain her memory. According to Lincoln, she probably would, but no way of knowing when. And, she might not recall everything. That would be even better. She wouldn't remember the cheating, and most importantly, the documents she'd found. He could get her to fall in love with him all over again and this time, he'd not underestimate her. He'd be damn careful about public displays of affection with Bree and where he left his briefcase.

He laid the phone on the bedside table and flopped onto his back. Bree sat up in bed, then straddled him and covered his mouth with a hot, wet kiss so deep his cock jumped to attention

"Mmm, didn't take you long to get interested," she cooed.

"Baby, I stay interested when it comes to you." Probably one of the only truths.

He really could have it all.

"Well, let me see what I can do about that."

She trailed kisses south, her hard nipples scraping his skin. When she reached her destination, she sucked him into her mouth.

He gritted his teeth. Damn. Once he left the country with Clarke, he'd have to take Bree along. No way he'd ever find a woman who could satisfy him the way she did. Besides, he'd need consoling once widowed so soon after the wedding.

* * *

Even though Bellamy had a ton of questions, he kept his seat when Dr. Mbege and Nyko strolled past the nurses station. Better to wait until he could speak to Nyko alone. The neurologist might not be on board with the plan to help with his patient's recovery.

After Marcus had left, Bellamy read over the notes he'd taken about Clarke and tried to memorize them. Jobs, boyfriends, favorite foods, music, movies, even childhood pets. Having them on his iPhone was perfect. He'd be able to refer to the info anytime or anywhere without her knowing. Did he feel guilty about what he was about to do? Damn right. He just didn't see a way out of it. Her family depended on him, and he'd given his word.

Nyko appeared and sauntered to the couch across from Bellamy and sat. "So, about this stupid conspiracy plot you've agreed to. What's going on with that?"

"Lincoln Woods is taking my place at the bachelor auction in return. I know it's crazy, but chances are, I would have agreed to it anyway so I might as well get something for my time—and suffering."

Nyko's lip quirked. "Well, as ridiculous as this scheme is, it might be just what you need."

He raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"Just that you spend way too much time worrying about your family. Living with Clarke might actually be good for you."

Bellamy leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees, letting his hands dangle between his legs. He didn't see anything positive about the situation. No matter the outcome, everything was going to screw up. She'd eventually come to her senses and remember everything - her family's betrayal over letting her believe that he was her boyfriend. She'd probably file a restraining order against him for going along with this chaos.

"There's nothing good about this. I'm lying to her. Hell, we're all lying to her and once she finds out, provided she gets her memory back, she won't be happy about it, and I can't blame her. Tell me something. When and if she does realize I'm not her boyfriend, will she remember begging to go home with me?"

Nyko considered him for a lengthy minute. "Probably. Why?"

'Because then she might forgive me. You know, once she realizes it wasn't my idea and sees it for what it is—me trying to help her, not take advantage."

"Advantage as in having sex with her?"

Bellamy ran a hand over his weary face. He might not know Clarke Griffin well, but he sure as hell knew she'd expect sex. From the way she kissed him, she'd be willing to do it in her hospital bed. He wouldn't allow himself to touch her, though. It wasn't right. She didn't know anything, and that made her unable to truly consent. That didn't mean it wouldn't take every bit of willpower to ignore her advances without outright moving out of his own house to Antarctica while she was there. "Damn right. Don't you think so?"

"As it turns out, I can give you some help on that front. Once released, Dr. Mbege advised her not to do anything strenuous enough to elevate her blood pressure for a couple of weeks. She's to walk every day adding a little more distance each time. Not brisk. Just regular pace."

Bellamy leaned back and blew out a breath. His nerves were shot. All this tension was hanging over his head like the sword of Damocles. "Thank God. By then, she'll be gone." That solved one of his problems, at least. The last thing he wanted was her to get upset because he refused to take advantage of her vulnerability and lack of memory.

Nyko glanced at his watch, then stood. "Just in case, other than the injuries she sustained in the car accident, she's healthy."

"I don't understand. Just in case what?"

Nyko laughed so hard he threw his head back. "That she stays longer than a fortnight and you can't fight her off."

Bellamy rose and gave him an easy shoulder punch. "Knock it off. This isn't funny. Besides, not gonna happen. Now that the two-week no sex rule is in play, regardless if she gets her past back or not, I'm not extending the agreement." Two weeks was two too long to deal with that predicament. He couldn't survive any longer than that, especially if she was throwing herself at him. He was probably going to have to jerk off in the bathroom every night to stay away from her.

"I get it. All I'm saying is if she convinces you otherwise, then she's safe. No STD's, and she has a current prescription for birth control."

He could feel his face heat up traitorously. Since saving Clarke, Bellamy had given that idea a lot of thought. Sex with his soon to be housemate wasn't repulsive. Just the opposite. There was nothing he'd like more than to kiss her senseless. Breathe her in. Explore her body. Bury his head between her thighs. But just one problem. "Even if I wanted to, I can't. She thinks I'm someone else. She has a boyfriend. A real one." Bellamy locked eyes with Nyko, regarding him warily. "Wait a minute. Didn't you just break your privacy code?"

"Nope. You're the only one she listed on her paperwork. So, you have the right to know everything about her."

Well, shit.

* * *

Clarke studied her reflection in the mirror, turning one way and then the other. Pulling her hair away from her face, she eyed the scars. One at her hairline, and one running the length of her right jawbone. Thank goodness she'd not seen the damage before the stitches came out and the bruising faded. She figured she must have looked like the Bride of Frankenstein.

She reached behind her neck and loosened the string on her hospital gown, then pulled the front down to reveal her chest. No major scars there. Just plenty of little cuts that were already healing. She counted six ranging in length from one to three inches, all angry and red against the blotchy remains of the seatbelt imprint.

She brushed her teeth, then splashed water on her face and blotted it dry. What she'd give for a bath. A tub filled with jasmine scented hot water. The cast on her right arm would be a problem, but if Bellamy was willing to help, she could make it work.

Bellamy. The thought of him brought a smile. He was just about the sexiest guy she could imagine. And he belonged to her. Unbelievable. She wished she could recall their past, but if she never did, it would be okay. She already knew she'd never love anyone the way she loved him.

His daily visits and how he read to her. The silly jokes he made. Hearing his voice made her heart race and seeing him—well, that caused just about every part of her body to catch fire. She didn't know how the hell she landed lust incarnate. He was sweet and kind, if somewhat reclusive and withdrawn. He was mysterious, and it made him dangerously sexy. His responses to her kisses were molten and made her weak at the knees.

A knock on the door brought her from her daydream.

"Are you okay in there?" Bellamy asked.

She opened the door and gazed up at him, holding the gown to her ample chest. She'd wanted to leave it, watch his eyes go dark, but he'd seemed so embarrassed with the PDA in front of her family, she didn't have the heart to tease him. Yet. When they got home, she'd ravish him.

"Yeah. I was just checking out the damage. Dr. Nyko said it'll take six months to a year for the scars to completely fade." She turned her back to Bellamy and lifted her hair. "Will you re-tie my gown, please?"

"Sure." He cleared his throat and reached out - hesitated a half-second, as if he was shy. The light streaming through the window glinted off his hair and cast his face in sunlight. She suddenly itched to capture the moment.

As his fingers brushed her skin, a shiver ran up her spine and down again. What she'd give to have those warm hands explore every inch of her. She knew in her heart, once he touched her, memories of their relationship would flood back.

When he was done, she faced him again. "You've got to bust me out of this place."

He grinned rakishly. "Don't think I can do that. The good news is, your doctor said you only have to stay a couple of more days."

"Yeah, I know, but I really, really want a bath—and wash my hair—and shave my legs—and polish my toenails." She slid her arm around his waist, then rested her head on his chest. Damn it, she couldn't wait. Her body burned with want. Maybe he'd appease her request and fuck her in the hospital room. "Most of all, I want to get naked with you."

Bellamy patted her back like a friend who'd not seen her in a long time. Odd. Had they been in a fight before the accident? He was treating her as such; like he was apprehensive about touching her. Like she was a stranger to him. Maybe he was just being careful, since she didn't remember anything. She stepped away and eyed him. "You do want to get me naked, right? I mean, I've been in here for a while, I'd think you'd be just as interested as I am."

He ran his hand through his hair. "The doctor says no sex for two weeks, so we have to keep our clothes on until that deadline passes."

"I don't want to wait." She hooked a finger in his belt loop and jerked him closer, then trailed her hand south and stroked him.

He jumped back. "Cut that out."

Taking her bottom lip between her teeth, she glanced at his crotch then back at him and grinned. "Well, your Head of Public Relations doesn't seem to be in agreement with that directive."

He scowled. "You need to behave."

She advanced two steps closer. "I don't want to. I want to be wild and careless. Crazy and spontaneous. I want to rip your clothes off and ride you senseless."

Bellamy went a delightful shade of pink and wouldn't meet her eyes. He gulped and placed his hands on her shoulders to physically hold her away from him.

He seemed completely at war with himself."There's a time and place for that, and it isn't here. Settle down or I'll have to leave."

She shrugged free, stomped to the bed, and sat. "You are such a killjoy." She tapped the spot next to her and stared up at him innocently, her bottom lip puckering for emphasis. "Come sit with me. I promise I won't try to take advantage of you."

He raised a brow. "Can I trust you?"

"You mean not to get you hard again?" She smiled cheekily.

Throwing his hands in the air, and glared at her. "Dammit, Clarke!"

"I'm just teasing," she soothed. "Come over here. Please."

He took a deep breath, let it out, then reluctantly joined her. "You're going to be the death of me." Literally. He felt like a pre-teen in his random boner phase.

"I know. I'm sorry. It was a little test."

Bellamy regarded her warily. "What do you mean?"

"You haven't been too interested. Not in kissing me or touching me. Barely even talking to me. I wanted to make sure you were still into me." She looked up at him from lowered lashes. She did sort of resemble the angry princess from Thirteen Ghosts with cuts spanning the length of her body.

There was also something she seemed to be missing, but she had no idea what the hell it was.

He placed his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up. "You arouse me plenty but we need to follow doctor's orders. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." She mock saluted him.

He chuckled and her toes curled. "There's no rule against hugging and kissing, is there?"

"No," he admitted. "As long as we don't let it get out of hand."

She smiled saccharine, pleased with herself. "Then I'd like for you to hold me, please."

He gathered her in his arms and drew her close, mindful of her injuries, and rested his chin on the top of her head. His hands came to rest at the small of her back. She couldn't think about anything about how good it felt to be held like that, like she was cherished. "How's this?"

"Perfect," she nestled into him. "Thank you."

"No thanks needed."

"Not just for the hug. For agreeing to let me stay with you. I know we weren't living together before, and I promise, I'll try really hard to get my memory back so I don't impose longer than necessary."

"Do you remember that?"

"No. Mr.— Marcus told me."

He pulled away and smiled. "I'm glad you're coming home with me."

"Do you really mean that?"

He blew out a short breath, glanced away as if considering what he'd said, then gazed into her eyes. "Yes."

* * *

 **Poor Bellamy. He's in trouble. And could Finn get anymore devious?**

 **Thanks to everyone who left comments. I always love reading them.**


	11. Chapter 11

Clarke hadn't even left the damn hospital yet and was already testing his willpower. He was fucked, and not in a good way. Bellamy's first surprise had been Clarke's hand on his dick. Then how quickly it had reacted to her touch. But the biggest shock came when he'd said he was happy about her coming home with him. How the hell did that happen? She'd looked so sad and sounded so desperate. That had to be it. His Good Samaritan persona must have kicked in once again because he couldn't be happy about her staying with him. Was he?

He turned onto the road that led to his mother's house and went back to his confused state. On the one hand, he wanted to help Clarke. Needed to help her. That was his MO. Been that way all his life and couldn't change. But on the flip side of that coin was the bad vibe that kept niggling at him every time he thought of sharing space with her.

She belonged to someone else, and even if she believed that someone was him, Bellamy knew the truth, which put him in a bad situation because he was attracted to her. A woman he could never have, and now he'd be sleeping with her, even in the most innocent sense.

He needed to look on the bright side. Still two more days before her release. A lot could happen in forty-eight hours. She could get her memory back. Return home, and he'd never see her again. Damn. His chest squeezed. Stomach clenched. He opened his glove compartment, pulled out the bottle of Rolaids and shook the tablets directly into his mouth.

His mother's house came into view. It looked like Grand Central. Octavia's car, Lincoln's rental, and another vehicle Bellamy didn't recognize lined the drive. He wheeled in behind them.

As he approached the front porch, Mom's laughter spilled over the fence from the backyard. He'd not heard her laugh like that in a while. He stopped and cocked his head. Did she have a man back there? Holy hell. What was going on? Octavia interested in an older guy. Bellamy about to live with a complete stranger. And now Mom entertaining some dude? Well, it sounded more like he was entertaining her, but still, she'd not dated since O's dad died.

Bellamy wasn't sure how he felt about that. She was still young at forty-four, but too old for a boyfriend. God, just using the word in connection to her made his skin crawl. He crept to the end of the porch for a closer listen and didn't like what he heard.

"Oh, gosh. I haven't been on a date in…"

Mom's voice trailed off, and Bellamy knew she was doing the math, just like he was.

"Almost fifteen years," she said. "I'm not sure I'd even know how to act."

Bellamy recognized the man's mellow tone.

"It's been a long time for me, too," Marcus said.

Bellamy fisted his hands. Lincoln. Clarke. Now Marcus. Damn family. Fucking up everything.

Just when he had considered that Marcus was in love with Abby, he had to go pull a one-eighty and set his sights on Aurora.

Bellamy scrubbed his palm over his face. What the hell? The whole damn family was made up of players? He'd better warn his Aunt Perlah. Wells was the only member left, so he'd probably be coming for her, married or not. Or maybe Abby Griffin wanted to get in on this action and date his aunt instead. Why couldn't these people find mates in Atlanta, or wherever the hell they lived? Stay on their own turf. Well, Clarke had found one for all the good it did.

Bellamy's ear perked at Marcus again.

"Don't think of it as a date. You were kind enough to invite me for dinner, so I'd like to return the favor. Just two friends sharing a meal. What about that?"

"I guess that would be okay. And we do have a lot in common right now. I mean, since your daughter will be living with my son."

She was probably batting her eyelashes.

Bellamy's mouth hung open. He couldn't recall the last time he'd heard that tone in his mother's voice. Yeah, he could. Never. She sounded like a schoolgirl being asked to the prom. He couldn't take anymore. He stomped to the front door and flung it open. So help him, if he caught Lincoln laying a hand on Octavia, Bellamy was going to take him down.

Instead, he stopped in his tracks. They were in the kitchen. Octavia loading the dishwasher. Lincoln bagging the trash.

"Hey, Bell," Octavia said as if everything was normal, and having strange men over was something they did daily.

Which it wasn't. The domestic scene going on here and Mom in the backyard giggling like a teenager was anything but normal. More like surreal. He zeroed in on Lincoln.

"Your pseudo-dad just asked my mom out. What's with you people?" he gruffly demanded, folding his arms over his chest.

"If by you people, you mean decent, hardworking, tax paying citizens, then there's nothing wrong. A better question is what's the matter with you trying to run everybody's life? Is yours so fucked you have to butt into everyone else's?" Lincoln sat his drink down, on a fucking coaster and stood up, imposing over him.

Bellamy stood his ground. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Octavia punched Lincoln's shoulder, narrowed her eyes, and shook her head, then looked back at her brother. "Lincoln didn't mean that. Mom and I like that you watch out for us."

Bellamy clenched his teeth. Clearly, Octavia had told her new so-called boyfriend all about Bellamy's past, and the thought curdled in his stomach like sour milk. So much for family loyalty. "Yeah. Whatever." He spun and headed back outside, then slammed the door behind him. Before he made it to the truck, Octavia was on his heels.

"I swear I've never told Lincoln anything about you. He was just spouting off. I really wish y'all could get along. And as for as Mr. Kane, I'm sure he's just being nice."

Bellamy turned to face her. "Doesn't matter. He pretty much got it right. I am fucked up." He didn't say anything else, just jumped behind the wheel, cranked the engine, rammed it in reverse, and sped away.

* * *

Octavia didn't know what to do. She wished she had told Lincoln about her brother's past. Then he might have held his tongue. She marched back in the house, put her hands on her hips and scowled. "You shouldn't have said that."

"Somebody needed to tell him to mind his own business. Sorry if I hurt his feelings. He's a big boy. He'll get over it."

She bristled, but managed to keep her voice calm. Lincoln didn't know any better, but she did have that Blake protective streak, even if Bellamy thought it all his own. "You don't understand. He's had a rough time. Sacrificed for us. Turned his life upside down in more ways than one, so don't ever speak to him that way again."

Lincoln moved to stand next to her and placed his hand on her shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into her agitated muscles. "I'm sorry. Really. Why don't you tell me about it?"

She shrugged away and strolled to the sofa and sat. There was nothing more important to her than having the two men she loved be friends. But if push came to shove, and Lincoln made her choose —her brother came first. Couldn't very well side with a man she'd not so much as kissed. One who made it clear there would never be anything between them other than friendship, although she planned for that to change.

Lincoln took the space next to her, which was crazy because he usually sat as far away as possible. The most physical contact they'd had was when he'd apologized minutes ago. She didn't say anything, and he laced his fingers with hers, looking her straight in the eye as if he could see everything.

"Please. Tell me."

Swallowing hard, she lost her train of thought for a second as a current of heat raced north and south, causing things to clench and tingle. She didn't dare look into his eyes for fear she might lose control.

Inhaling a deep breath, she began, "Bellamy had his life all set. A free ride to college by way of a baseball scholarship. A couple of major league teams had already been looking at him. He was in love with his high school sweetheart. Then half-way through the first semester, my mom lost her job. We were struggling to make ends meet. I was too young to do much. Mom took any job she could along with her night classes, so Bellamy dropped out to take care of me. Take care of both of us."

The memory caused an overwhelming sadness to envelop her. She'd been old enough to recognize her brother's suffering. He'd taken the loss harder than anyone.

Lincoln slid his arm around Octavia's shoulders. "Go on."

She looked at the ceiling and blinked tears away, then got control of her emotions. "And then there was his girlfriend, Roma. She'd enrolled in the same college and stayed behind when Bellamy came home. Became a real party girl. Got hooked on drugs. Turned out she'd already been using before he left, but he didn't know it. He didn't know a lot of things. Found out later she'd had an abortion."

Lincoln's eyebrows raised skyward. "His baby?"

"Yes. And there's more. Bellamy found Roma dead in his apartment. Drug overdose. So he has every right to be messed up—and to be overprotective of Mom and me. I think he stays terrified he might lose someone else he loves. He couldn't save Roma, so he thinks he needs to save everyone else."

Lincoln sighed. "Well, I feel like a jerk."

Octavia slipped her hand from his. "You should if for no other reason than what he's doing for your cousin."

"You're right. I'll make a point to see him and apologize before I leave."

Octavia gazed at him. "When will that be?"

"Day after tomorrow."

Octavia was taken aback. She knew he'd be leaving, but she thought she'd have a little more than a day to mentally prepare. Now that Clarke was awake and seemingly fine, there really was no reason for him to stay. She wasn't stupid enough to think or even want him to stay solely for her, especially not when she'd be graduating and leaving soon. "When will you be back?"

"Unless Clarke recovers her memory or needs me for something, probably not until that bachelor auction event I got rooked into. Just how bad is this Lori Ming person?"

"Tsing. Lorelei Tsing."

"Whatever."

"She isn't all that bad. Just older. She's a doctor." Octavia's lips quirked up. "Besides, you don't look anything like Bellamy, so maybe won't appeal to her. And the money goes to local charities, so it's for a good cause."

Lincoln brought his arm from Octavia's shoulders, back to his lap, and clasped his hands together. "Maybe so, but the thought of a stranger paying to spend time with me, makes me nervous. I mean, it's like a blind date, and the two I've had in the past did not go well."

"How so?"

He pursed his lips then pulled them tight against his teeth. "One girl immediately started talking about having kids and the other couldn't stop bitching about her ex. After that second fiasco, I swore to never to do that again."

Octavia snorted. "I doubt you need to be fixed up."

"What does that mean?"

"You're gorgeous, smart, and gainfully employed," she ticked the points off on her fingers. "That's pretty much the magic trifecta. You should have suitors lined up around the block trying to get your attention."

He grinned. Always so stoic, but he seemed to come alive around her. Her heart tingled in satisfaction. "You know guys have a list, and those top three things are about the same. Besides, who says I don't have a line of suitors?"

Octavia punched his shoulder. "Don't be a smartass."

Lincoln fell over laughing. "I'm not. There are so many they cause daily traffic jams."

"Yeah, right." She stood and folded her arms, refusing to play the jealousy card people her age were prone to. "I'm going to get something to drink, you want anything?"

He pulled her back onto the couch. "Was that your subtle way of trying to find out how many people have been in my life?"

"Uh—no." God, she hated the way her voice elevated at the end of that word. Like she wasn't sure about her answer. But she was. She didn't want to know how many there'd been. The number would only make her feel worse.

He took her hand and rubbed his finger across the knuckles. "Let's just get it all out in the open, why not."

Pulling her hand free, she stood again. "None of my business." She walked away.

He called after her. "One serious, one semi-serious, and a lot of dates, but not in a while. I've been concentrating on building my business, which means at least sixty-hour work weeks. I don't have time for a relationship."

She stopped and spoke over her shoulder. "Like I said, it's none of my business."

In an instant, he was behind her, so close she could feel his body heat. God help her, if she just leaned back a little, she'd fit so perfectly, molding against him. She took a deep breath, and he put his lips next to her ear.

"I want it to be your business. That's how messed up I am. Logic tells me we can't be more than friends. At least not now. But my heart tells me something entirely different. These nightly dinners with you are making me crazy. If you knew what I'm doing to you right now in my head, you'd run away."

She turned and stared up at him. "No, I wouldn't. It can't be any worse than what I've fantasized."

"You sure about that?"

She wondered if he was aware of how low his voice dropped.

Like the cat who caught the canary, she continued, face serious, trying to smother the smile that itched to break free. "Clothes ripping. Bare skin slick with lust. Bodies tangled together. Hands exploring every inch of each other. Passionate kisses. Tongues tangling. You inside me. And don't even get me started on positions and locations."

He stilled, arms tight at his sides, hands balled into fists. "Stop. Don't say anything else."

She ran her arms around his waist, pressed against him, and rested her head on his chest. To her surprise, he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her closer, and that's when she felt it, hard against her belly. A mixture of fear and excitement ran through her. She'd never compare to the women he'd had. In all her daydreams, she'd never been inadequate, but in reality, truth sat in.

Maybe this is what Bellamy had been trying to tell her all along. That she wasn't woman enough for a man like Lincoln. She was just a stupid girl. A high school senior with no experience in the romance department. Lincoln was right. There could never be anything between them but friendship—or sex. According to his erection, that could definitely happen, but if she expected more, she was setting herself up for heartbreak. The wish list ran through her head. Gorgeous? She was pretty enough. Smart? Nope. At least not in the love category. Gainfully employed? Never had been. She was nowhere near Lincoln's equal, and that's what men wanted. At least the ones worth having.

She stepped away "You're right. The timing is all wrong."

He hauled her back against him. "Fuck the timing."

He kissed her, and she lost her breath. This was so much better than anything she'd imagined. Then he licked into her mouth, and her knees weakened. She didn't care about the wish list, or her age, or inexperience. She didn't even care that her mother and Marcus Kane could walk in from outside at any moment. All she cared about was Lincoln and what he was doing with the deadly combination of a magic tongue and mystical hands.

He broke the kiss, and she dangled as if boneless within his arms. Unable to speak, she gasped for breath, but only managed to retrieve a small amount of oxygen. She ran her hand over his jaw to make sure he was real and not a dream.

He sucked her finger into his mouth. Not a dream. Sweet baby Jesus.

* * *

Lincoln didn't know what he'd been thinking. Well, that wasn't exactly true. He'd been thinking plenty, but never intended to act on those thoughts. Thank God, Kane and Aurora decided to come back inside when they did, or he would have taken Octavia right there in the living room. She made him crazy to the point his brain scrambled.

The kiss had been a big mistake because now all he could think about was how her lips felt against his and how one just made him want more.

He wheeled into the motel parking lot, killed the engine and stared into space. Leaving was the right thing to do. Thankfully, he had enough work piled up, so he'd be too busy to think about her. Yeah. Right. At least he'd have National Guard duty the following weekend, and that would certainly keep his mind occupied. In twenty-nine months, his commitment would be met, and he'd been thinking about extending his enlistment. If he did, in twelve years he'd qualify for full benefits. The time demanded little investment for a big return. Art galleries were expensive, and if he ever did want to open his dream gallery up, he'd need money. A lot of it.

That was a decision for later. Right now, he needed to decide what to do about Octavia. If he kept seeing her, things were sure to get out of hand. He only had so much self-control, and at some point, desire would win out.

He leaned his head back against the seat. Wouldn't be fair to do that to her. College should be one of the best times of her life. If he occupied all her free time, she'd miss the whole experience, and someday she'd resent him for it. Up until now, their relationship remained platonic so nobody would get their heart broken, and they could part as friends.

There was only one thing to do, and he'd known that from the start. Leave Arkadia and forget about her.

* * *

Bellamy knew he should be home instead of at the hospital, but here he was slipping into Clarke's room like a thief. He could have gone to The Bunker and had a drink, but that didn't appeal to him. He wasn't feeling sociable. Not after finding out his mother was about to date. Christ Almighty. And dealing with Lincoln had only added an extra damper to his ahead plummeting mood.

In the dim light, he found his way to the corner chair and eased onto it. Clarke's chest rose and fell with each silent breath. He'd never met a girl quite as bold as Clarke. He dreaded lying to her with the fake boyfriend part, but he really did want to help her. And, maybe he wanted to spend time with her, too. Get to know her.

According to everything her family had told him, her assertive behavior wasn't normal. They'd described her as shy, especially when it came to relationships. The change in personality shouldn't be a shock considering her memory had been wiped clean. Along with everyone else, he figured she'd forgotten who she was.

That brought up an interesting question. Which Clarke would he like better? The old or new version? Didn't really matter much which one he preferred, since both would leave as soon as her brain healed. She'd go back to that Finn dude. He had no misguided assumptions that Clarke would ever get her memory back and decide she actually preferred Bellamy to her actual boyfriend.

Damn. Bellamy had never met him and already disliked him. What kind of jerk never came to visit his unconscious girlfriend? More importantly, how could anyone love a man like that? He'd even stuck with her through two rounds of rehab, when Clarke's boyfriend couldn't even make time for one measly visit. Even her family didn't seem to care much for the guy, if Marcus' reaction said anything about it. It only added to his instant dislike of this faceless Finn, who seemed more storybook villain in his head than an awful boyfriend.

Still, he wouldn't be much better off once she found out he'd been lying and taking advantage of her all this time. With the added bonus of her entire family, and several others as part of the scheme, she'd probably never trust anyone ever again.

This entire situation was conjuring up old heartache again. Even after all Roma had done, Bellamy still loved her for a long time. At least the old Roma. Not the one that lied and cheated. The drugged-out girl who killed his unborn baby without telling him about it. It was her body, but he'd have gone with her to the clinic; he'd have helped her.

Clarke roused, rubbed her eyes, then smiled. "Hey, are you really here, or am I dreaming?"

He whispered a laugh to mask his shock. "You dream about me?" He wanted to ask her to describe these dreams, but he couldn't voice the question.

She pushed herself up in bed. "All the time." He choked down the glimmer of disappointment. It couldn't be him she was dreaming about; at least, not the reality of him, but her faux belief that he was hers before the accident.

"Do you ever dream about me?"

Damn it. "I don't remember my dreams." Another lie for the ever growing list.

"Come over here."

Cocking his head, he eyed her. Getting closer proved dangerous. Last time he did, she copped a feel. "Promise you won't molest me?"

"That's a terrible word. It means I'm forcing myself on you. Is that how you feel?" Her voice cracked and in that instant, he wanted to hug her, press his thumb against the crease between her brows and smooth it out.

But he didn't know how to answer that question. Didn't want to hurt her feelings, but didn't want to encourage her either. "I guess that was the wrong choice. I apologize." He stood and scooted his chair next to her bed. "I didn't mean to wake you." He sat and leaned closer. "I can't stay long. Have to be up early for work."

"I'm sorry," she sighed, weary. "I don't remember what you do."

He'd not thought of it before, but this could be a good thing. The more she learned about him, the more likely she'd be to realize he wasn't Finn. Maybe the rest would follow. He forced the thought away; girls like her didn't fall in love with guys like him. They, however, did fall in love with jackasses like Finn, who hadn't even checked on her yet. He had to quench this small bit of jealousy gathering in his stomach at a guy he'd never even met, or cared to meet.

"I work for the power company. I'm a lineman."

She rubbed her hand across her forehead and squinted. "Oh. So, you're the guy who stands in a bucket to work on power lines?"

"That's me."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"Currently number seven on the top ten most dangerous jobs in America. That's why I'll cut my visit short. Can't be sluggish when dealing with high voltage."

She raised her eyebrows. "Why do you do it?"

"My step dad worked for the company for twenty-five years. I felt like I needed to stay close to home, take care of my mom and Octavia. Arkadia doesn't have much to offer career wise. Besides, it has good benefits. Insurance. Retirement. Job security."

Her frown deepened. "I don't remember any of that. I wish I could. I keep thinking something will be familiar, but nothing is."

Her voice cracked, and Bellamy fought the urge to hold her, but the best thing for him was to avoid body contact. Showing any affection would be dangerous.

He felt guilty, but also sadness, too. Like a newborn, Clarke had no realizations of who she was, or anything beyond a fake life that had been molded for her.

"It'll come in time." He stood. "I should go."

She grabbed his hand, the smooth digit gliding over his callouses until their fingers were linked. "Not yet. You never told me why you came."

"I don't know. I just—I don't know." He shook his head and slumped back into the chair. As crazy as it was, he didn't know why he was here.

She squeezed his fingers. "What's wrong? You can tell me. Just because I can't remember our life together doesn't mean I don't want you to share your problems with me."

He grit his teeth, remembering the previous day. It wasn't Clarke's problem, though; she had asked for none of it. "Even if they involve your family?"

"Did Lincoln do something?"

Bellamy hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck. The last thing he wanted was add more stress to her.

"Octavia has a big-time crush on him, and he's too old for her. Then I overheard Marcus ask my mom out." He sighed, "I know they have their own lives, and I shouldn't have a say, but I don't want Octavia to get hurt. And mom—well, I've just never thought of her being with anyone but my dad." It was stupid to feel that way and he knew it. He couldn't keep the Blake women all to himself; couldn't keep things the same forever. He wanted both of them to be happy, but there was something so dangerous in putting all your happiness in other people.

"She's been alone for a while, right?" Her voice was soft.

"Yeah."

"Well, it isn't like she's going to marry him. It's just a date. Don't you think she deserves a night out with a nice man?"

"Sure, but one date can turn into two, then three, and before you know it, things might…"

"What?" She grinned. "Get physical?"

He scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned. "Oh, God. Don't say that." He shook his head to dispel the mental images before they formed.

Clarke giggled. "Look, in the beginning, women and men want different things. Men—well, you know what they want, but women mostly want attention and affection. We want to feel like we mean something to someone and we don't want to demand it. We want it given freely." She paused, "At least that's what I want."

Damn, something in Bellamy's chest twisted. Guilt. "I shouldn't bother you with this stuff. You have your own problems."

She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. "I'm happy you did. Everybody tiptoes around me. Like they're afraid to say the wrong thing. You - talking about this, it makes me feel like we're really connected. You know?"

Yeah, he knew. Even if it wasn't real, it sure felt like it. Her lips on his hand made his heart ache for so many reasons. For misleading her. Because she belonged to someone else. But most of all, when he was with her, he felt something he'd not in a long time. Something he didn't think he'd feel again.

And with the way things were going, something he certainly didn't deserve.

"Yeah. I know. As for why I came back tonight, I wanted to see you even if you were asleep. Being in the same room with you—well, it makes me feel better." He rocked back on his heels, feeling bare and exposed. It was easy, though, to talk to her. It wasn't something he fully understood, talking to a basic stranger about his life, his issues. There was just something about Clarke that made it easy and possible to tell her anything.

She took her bottom lip between her teeth and grinned. "It's the same for me. And maybe I don't remember anything about the men in my life, but I don't think they'd deliberately hurt your sister or mother. I mean, I was raised with Lincoln and Marcus has been around since before I was born, and look how awesome I am."

She giggled again, and her laugh seemed light up her entire face and resonate for miles. Bellamy found himself laughing too, then took a deep breath. All he wanted was to make her laugh. "I really have to go." He found himself at odds much too often, wanting her to stay, wanting her to go.

"I know, but I wish you could stay." She tugged him forward, and he didn't resist. Fact was, he wanted to kiss her—a million times, and that still wouldn't be enough.

She placed her hand on his cheek and leaned forward to deliver a sweet, tender kiss. When it ended, he let his lips linger on hers and whispered against them. "I'll see you tomorrow. Okay?"

She inhaled as if to pull his words into her mouth. "Uh-huh. Tomorrow."

* * *

 **Poor Bell, first his sister and now his mom. Guy can't catch a break. Lincoln ain't even trying either hah. I got more fanart coming up soon. Since I can't post images on ff (as far as I know anyway), if you guys wanted to go find my story on ao3 (handle is morningstar), I wil post fanart of this story from time to time (or follow me on tumblr, my handle is daenerystormboern). I posted a cute fanart piece when Clarke woke up in chapter 8 and will be posting another on ao3 and tumblr when I release next chapter. On my tumblr, just search tagged / bellarke to see this storys gifset and fanarts.  
**

 **How do you guys think Bellamy will fare with Clarke living with him? Gotta be brutal.**


	12. Chapter 12

All the way home, logic battled emotion. Bellamy didn't understand how she affected him so much. Sure, desire was there, but was it more than lust? Couldn't be. He barely knew her. Maybe wanting what he couldn't have came into play. She had a significant other, which made Bellamy a mere stand-in. That had to be it. But everything about her got him going. Those blue eyes. The mole above her lip that drew attention to her lips and the way she giggled turned him inside out. Her kissing skills didn't help matters.

Maybe that was it!

He'd been without a woman for so long, all the attention, kissing, touching, and those smoldering looks she sent his way wreaked havoc on his libido. Well, he needed to do something about that. What that was, he didn't know. But in one more day, she'd be living with him, and if he was to survive with constant temptation as a bed partner, then he needed to come up with a plan.

Early the next morning, after Bellamy clocked in at work, he made his way to the office. He figured the request he was about to make wouldn't be refused, and it would definitely help him with the Clarke problem.

The receptionist looked up. "Hey, Bellamy. How was your weekend?"

"Okay, I guess. Pike in?"

"Yeah, you need to see him?"

"Just for a second."

Before she could alert the boss, his door opened, and he stepped into the room. "Did I hear my name?"

Bellamy moved past her toward Pike. "You got a minute?"

"You bet. Come on in."

Bellamy followed, then closed the door behind him. "Just wanted to let you know I'll be happy to take call duty for the next few weeks. And add my name to the out-of-state relief roster."

Pike cocked his head. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah."

"Look, if you've got money problems—you know I'll help if I can."

He shook his head. "I appreciate that, but I'm fine. Just thought I'd pick up a few extra hours. Is that a problem?"

"Absolutely not. But you would tell me if something was wrong—right? As your friend and boss, it's my duty and privilege to help if you're in trouble."

Bellamy didn't think woman trouble qualified for the type of difficulty Pike wanted to help with. Not that he could. Personal problems couldn't be handled by anyone but the person involved. That's what made them—personal. Bellamy wanted to laugh but stifled it. No need to burden his boss with the mess he'd gotten himself into.

"No trouble. I promise."

"Okay, if you say so." He didn't look entirely convinced. "I'll have Hannah put you on both lists."

"Thanks. Now I better get to work before I get fired."

Pike laughed. "Don't think there's any danger of that. Especially since you're willing to take after hours calls. The rest of the men would string me up."

"Thanks, Pike."

"Be careful out there."

"I always am."

Bellamy headed to the Ops center to check his emails and work orders in his queue. Then it was off to his truck to make sure it was fully stocked and rigged. By the time he got there, Miller was already going over the checklist.

"Hey, I thought I'd see you at the bar last night, but you were a no-show."

"Yeah, I hit the sack early." He tapped the clipboard and opened a side compartment to check the contents, then walked to the back of the truck. "Turns out, I'm in a relationship." He hadn't even anticipated telling Miller, not after how he reacted at The Bunker, but he couldn't very well talk to anyone else about his problems. Not since Mom and O were cohorting with that family.

Miller stopped what he was doing and came to face Bellamy. "You're shitting? With who?"

"Clarke Griffin." Bellamy gave Miller all the details, and when he finished, Miller laughed so hard, he gulped for air. "Cut it out, man," Bellamy said. "This is anything but funny. You did understand the part about me having to sleep with her."

Miller wheezed in a breath. "Oh, the part about you having to keep it in your pants while she's trying to get it out?" He bent over laughing again.

"You know, Nathan, how long is it going to take Monty to realize you've got a Jughead Jones love affair with that beanie and leave you?"

Miller straightened and stifled his outburst, patting his hat with an offending look at Bellamy. "Sorry, man. Really. It's just of all the people I know, you're the only one who'd hate having a problem like this. A pretty girl in your bed every night. Doesn't sound like a crisis to me."

* * *

Since Octavia and Raven were friends, Bellamy wasn't surprised to see his sister's car in the drive at the Reyes-King house. He was more surprised that Raven didn't do the electrical work herself – but he guessed with the leg brace, climbing poles were out of the question.

While Miller put out the hazard cones, Bellamy geared up.

"Hey, Uncle Bellamy!"

He turned to see Raven and Roan's daughter, Lina, coming up the drive with her friend right behind. "Hey, baby girl. Why aren't you two in school?"

He squatted, and she walked into his arms, then planted a big kiss on his cheek. "We don't go today."

"Oh, like a teacher's workday?"

She seemed to contemplate this for a moment. "Un-huh. When Noah's grandpa gets home from work, he's gonna let us ride Noah's pony."

The little boy adjusted the bandana around his neck. "He won't buck us off, but my mama won't let me ride him without a grownup."

Bellamy stood. "That's probably a good idea."

"You gonna climb a pole?" Lina asked, gesturing toward the electrical lines.

"No. We'll use the bucket."

Octavia and Raven came from the house and Bellamy couldn't help but smile at Raven's bulging belly.

"Lina," she chastised, "Don't be bothering Uncle Bell."

"She's no bother." Bellamy eyed Raven. "When are you due?"

She rubbed a hand over her stomach. "Still six weeks to go."

Miller came from behind the truck and nodded toward the duo. "What's up?"

"Not much," Octavia said. "Hey, would you be interested in taking part in the Valentine auction?"

He threw his hands in the air. "No way! I've heard your brother's horror story."

Crossing her arms under her chest, she glared at Bellamy. "It's bad enough you won't take part, but do you have to scare off all the other available men?"

He smiled, saccharine. "You shouldn't complain. I got someone to take my place."

Octavia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right."

"No. Seriously, I did. Lincoln Woods. I figured he told you about it."

She opened her mouth, probably ready to chew him out, when Lina interrupted, wrapping her arms around Raven's good leg. "Can we watch them?"

"Oh, I don't know about that."

"It'll be okay if they stay on the porch," Bellamy said.

Raven tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She was beautiful and intelligent as hell, and he'd thought Roan would marry her. Lord knew he tried hard enough, but she claimed she didn't believe in the institution of marriage. He kind of agreed.

"Are you sure it will be okay?" Raven asked.

"Yeah. They'll probably get bored pretty quick. Watching us work isn't all that exciting."

Miller pointed to the north. "What's with all that dirt work? Looks like you're getting ready to build another house."

Raven shaded her eyes with her hand. "Yeah. Gaia's moving back, so she's going to be our neighbor."

Bellamy cut his eyes over at Miller. Damn. This was not good news for his friend.

"Well, we better get busy," Bellamy said.

"Okay, you two. Come on, and we'll fix you a spot on the porch," Octavia said. Then she looked back at her brother. "Just so you know, I'm not giving up on convincing you to participate again."

It was his turn to roll his eyes. "Yeah, and just so you know, there is nothing you can say or do to make that happen."

Octavia took Lina's hand and walked away with Raven and Noah trailing behind.

Bellamy pushed the unpleasant thought of spending another evening with Tsing from his brain and got to work.

At four o'clock, Bellamy and Miller finished their last job and headed back to the office. Thanks to all they'd done, Bellamy hadn't thought of Clarke but a couple of times. He wasn't sure he could say the same for Miller not thinking about Monty.

"So. You gonna be okay with Gaia moving back?" Bellamy asked.

Miller adjusted his beanie, something he did when he was uncomfortable, like he needed something to do with his hands. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I'm sorry, man. I know you like him, and this throws a kink in things."

Miller shook his head. "Not like I have any claim to Monty. And there's nothing I can do about it but trust him."

Bellamy shrugged.

* * *

Before Bellamy left the Reyes job, he'd taken the opportunity to talk to Raven about Clarke. He didn't feel comfortable leaving her at his house without a car or a cell phone. Marcus planned to send a new one along with a debit card and some other items. But they wouldn't arrive until the day after tomorrow.

By the time Bellamy got the truck back to the office and talked to his boss again, then drove home, and cleaned up, it was past six o'clock when he arrived at the hospital. Today would be his last visit and as happy as that made him, tomorrow held a bigger problem. Clarke moving in with him. Even if the doctor's order of no exertion got him a two-week reprieve in the sex department, his stomach jumped and jittered.

He had no clue how he'd pull this off. No doubt she'd have a thousand questions, and he only had a handful of answers. There were only so many childhood stories Marcus could cram in the short time time Bellamy had spent with him. But the biggest challenge he faced involved lying. Sure, their relationship was based on a lie, but beyond that, she deserved the truth.

The elevator doors slid open, and Bellamy strolled to her room.

Clarke was dressed in a pair of sweatpants, the matching top had the right sleeve cut off at the elbow to accommodate her cast. She looked up and widened her eyes, grinning maniacally.

"I don't like pudding! Or Jell-O! I remembered that. It was on my lunch tray, and when I saw it, I knew I didn't like it. Isn't that great? Did you know I didn't like it?"

Her babble made him smile. God, she was adorable. "No, I didn't. Remember anything else?"

Her shoulders heaved a deep sigh. "Nope. But that's a good sign, right? I mean—pudding today—my entire history tomorrow!"

She had no idea how much he wanted that to happen. But at the same time, maybe nodded and glanced at the suitcase and bag on the chair. "You look like you're ready to go."

"I don't know what's going on with those clothes that Luna brought me. But they are not my taste at all. Everything is black, brown, or navy. She said I picked them out, but I can't believe it. I know she doesn't have a reason to lie to me, so I must have no sense of style. I mean, what am I? Amish?"

Bellamy laughed. "I don't think so. Maybe she just didn't bring the right things."

"No. No. She said they were some of my favorites. That makes no sense." She flapped her hand in the air. "Makes no difference. As soon as my Mom sends me another credit card, I'm going shopping. I can't wear something so bland."

"Okay. We'll drive over to Polis one day. They have some cute shops. But first, we have to get you home." He wondered if he could avoid such a shopping trip by sending Octavia, but quickly nixed the thought. Bellamy wasn't sure he wanted Clarke and Octavia to team up with a credit card. Or against him, where he couldn't keep an eye on them.

"I wanted to talk to you about that. Tomorrow, I'll be released by noon, but you'll be at work, so what should I do?"

He scratched the back of his neck. "I'm taking a long lunch. After I get you settled, I'll finish my shift. My friend Raven plans to meet us at the house. She'll stay with you until I get home."

She rolled her eyes skyward. "I'll be fine by myself. She doesn't have to babysit me."

"It's for me, not you. I'll feel better knowing someone is with you. Just for tomorrow. After that, you're on your own."

She hesitated a lengthy moment, considering. "Does Octavia like me?"

Damn. That stopped him. He'd concentrated on how to remain truthful when it came to questions about her past, but he'd not factored in issues about his family. He took a deep breath to buy some time. "Octavia likes everybody. We have that in common. We're people pleasers."

Clarke moved to him and slid her arms around his waist, then looked up into his eyes. "I bet that's one of the things that made me fall in love with you. How did we meet?"

How stupid he'd been to think this kind of question wouldn't come up so quickly. Now, what could he do? There was only one truthful answer, and if he gave it, then his promise to her family would be broken. But then again, if she learned the truth about him, it might force her to remember everything else—or, stress her out and cause a brain bleed. He must have hesitated too long because she jumped back and launched into another tirade.

"Oh my God! You didn't pick me up in a bar, did you?"

Bellamy could barely hear the second question for his mind racing to find an answer to the first. He shook his head to clear it.

"Oh no. Was I a pole dancer? Is that why I'm working in a law office? Because I have no skills other than pole jockey? Is that it?" She rubbed her hand over her face and closed her eyes. "Go ahead. You can tell me. Just tell me I don't like sequins."

The words pole jockey snapped Bellamy from his trance, his mind already conjuring up images of her clad in the bare minimum, creamy thighs wrapped around a pole. Holy crap, she was in mid-rant by the time he figured out what she was talking about. He held up his hands. "Stop. Take a breath. Maybe it's the songwriter in you, but your assumption is better than what really happened, so let's go with that. You might even get a number one hit out of it. You do remember you write songs, don't you?"

"I do! I mean, I've read some of the stuff in those journals." She pointed to the sack. "And even though I don't remember where the idea came from, I remember writing them. Does that make sense?"

He shrugged, halfheartedly. "Yeah." He debated telling her she painted, from what her family told him, but he hadn't seen any of her artwork to answer any questions.

She put her good hand on her hip. "So, I'm not an exotic dancer?"

He chuckled. "Nope. And there's your title."

She cocked her head as if mulling it over for a minute. "You're right. How about—Just because I talk the talk and strut the strut doesn't put me on a pole or make me a slut." She paused, before launching into another censure, "even though slut-shaming is—"

Bellamy leaned forward and belly-laughed, effectively cutting her off her mile-a-minute rant. "I was kidding, but there you go."

She walked to the chair, dug around in the bag, pulled out a pencil and one of the journals. "Just want to write that down before I forget because I'm doing a lot of that lately."

The next two weeks with her would not be easy. At least tonight, she hadn't tried to touch or kiss him, and the strange thing about that was he'd wished she had.

Holy shit.

He really was fucked.

* * *

 **Another sort of filler chapter. Sorry. I like to flesh things out as I started out writing original fiction before I ever got into fanfiction.**

 **Bellamy's already trying to get away and hes not even home with her yet!**

 **Fanart is Lina, Raven and Roan's daughter. You can see it on my tumblr, daenerystormboern.**

 **Expect next chapter on show day! FIVE MORE DAYS til 100 is back! I've been waiting for it so long I'm dreading it a bit.**


	13. Chapter 13

Clarke slept longer than she intended, but that little pill they gave her each night took away any chance of rising early. The nurse had helped her shower and wash her hair, then Clarke gathered all her things, pulled out the least depressing ensemble her sister in law had packed. Gray and black sweats with a small white logo over her heart. With only one working hand, she'd had to call an aide to help her dress. This was going home day, and she couldn't wait to get out of this place. The doctors and nurses were all super nice, but she figured once she spent more time with Bellamy, her memory would come back. It was already happening. First the pudding, then the songwriting. Only a matter of time until she remembered everything. Then she'd solve the mystery of why she'd come to Arkadia.

She got the feeling the subject made Bellamy uncomfortable, well actually all the questions she asked caused his face to scrunch in a weird way. Maybe it was because their relationship wasn't as serious as she thought. Or, that she was more serious than he. The reason didn't matter. She loved him and wouldn't pressure him. Might not remember her life, but she remembered some people didn't like to talk about feelings.

The thing she feared most was they'd broken up, and she'd come here to win him back. He admitted her visit was unexpected and by the way he stiffened every time she touched him or tried to talk about their relationship, something wasn't right. On the other hand, he must still care for her because he'd visited every day and agreed to let her stay with him. Well, if there was trouble between them, this was her chance to remedy the situation—and she intended to do just that.

But, it could be something else. Maybe her family didn't like him. There was definitely tension between Bellamy and Lincoln. She'd seen it in the sharp glances they exchanged. It could be the Griffin-Kane-Woods Clan thought they were too good to bring a blue-collar worker into the fold of rich criminal lawyers and prestigious doctors.

Funny, she should be thinking her godfather or her family but she couldn't when she had no recollection of her life with them. The attention they gave her seemed genuine, but she felt nothing but gratitude—and guilt, currently number one on her emotion chart. As if losing her memory was intentional.

The thought stopped her. She moved to the window and stared out at dark low hanging clouds. Tree branches danced in the wind. The dismal scene matched her mood.

A chill ran up her spine. What if her life had been so awful, she'd blacked out everything? From all she'd been told, even though she scored high on her SAT, she worked as a receptionist in the family law firm. That was way down on the success list from her family's accomplishments.

Was she not motivated? Had she been drifting along in life letting the family take care of her? She slumped down onto the bed and hung her head. Compared to them, clearly, she was an underachiever. Bellamy probably had dumped her. Why not? Other than notebooks of stupid songs, she had nothing to offer him.

Her eyes burned as tears tracked down her face.

* * *

As Bellamy made his way into the hospital, there was a bounce in his step. He'd spent too much time worrying about Clarke and how he'd handle things. Hell, they were supposed to be in a relationship, so if he didn't want to talk about something, or more precisely, lie, he'd just tell her so. That's what couples did. Sure, they needed to keep the lines of communication open, but since she didn't have any memory, he could take the lead in choosing the subjects.

This new resolve lifted his spirit. Besides, hell, he could do anything for fourteen days, possibly even fight off Tsing. The thought made him shiver. Well, that might be taking it too far. But he'd tolerated much more serious problems than dealing with an amnesia patient.

When he reached the doorway to her room, she sat on the bed—sobbing silently, trying to muffle the sound with her arm. As if she were trying to keep it all in with quiet gasps where she couldn't quite keep it in. Fuck. His previous pep talk went out the window. This would be hard.

He rushed to sit next to her and slid his arm around her shoulder, kneading the flesh where shoulder met neck. "Hey, what's wrong?"

She looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks in rapid succession. Her bottom lip quivered, and he pulled her into a tight hug.

She could feel his warm breath tousling her hair as he murmured, "Come on now, don't cry. Whatever it is, we can fix it."

She buried her face in his neck. "I don't think so. I'm a loser with a Puritan wardrobe."

Bellamy couldn't help but chuckle. He rubbed his hand up and down her back. "No, you're not. You're just depressed. The doctors said you might be. Your situation is enough to make anybody sad, but it's temporary."

She pushed away and gazed at him again. "What if it isn't? What if I never get my memory back? What if I really am a loser and picked out all these horrible clothes?"

He wiped her tears with his thumb. "I believe you will recover your memory, but if you don't, we'll make new ones. You can buy different clothes, and you're not a loser. I know that to be a fact. So, dry your tears." He hesitated a second before plowing on. "It breaks my heart to see you cry, and you don't want to break my heart, do you?" Ugh, all this emotional manipulation was doing his head in, even if it was true. All of these lies were going to soon boil over the surface, and everyone was going to suffer the consequences, Clarke most of all.

She sighed and pressed her lips to his.

He threaded his fingers through her hair and deepened the kiss. She brought both of her hands to his chest, slowly dragging her nails down his abdomen. He muffled a groan in reply, digging his fingers into her hips in retaliation, moan getting lost in his lips.

Clarke surged forward, changing the pace as she fisted both of her hands into his shaggy locks and locked their bodies as close as she could allow.

Then, realizing what he'd done, he pulled back, gasping, and stumbled backwards. His voice sounded wrecked even to his own ears. "Is all the paperwork done for your discharge?"

She nodded, refusing to meet his eyes. Damnit, he fucked up, but he didn't know any other way to deal with the situation. It was only a matter of time before her memory came back and she realized how wrong this was, how wrong he was.

Maybe she'd realize all the times he didn't take advantage and forgive him.

"Okay, let's get out of here. You're going to need a jacket because it's cold outside."

All the way to the truck Bellamy wanted to kick himself. For a brief moment, he'd let his guard down, and he couldn't afford to do that. Although he'd made decisions about dealing with her memory loss, he needed to remember she belonged to another man, albeit one who didn't deserve her, any affection she showed toward Bellamy was meant for her real boyfriend.

As they drove down Main Street, she turned her head from left to right taking in both sides of the street. He figured she was looking for a place to shop for new clothes, or trying to remember a town she didn't know.

"None of this looks familiar," she said.

"Without much to offer, this place is easy to forget."

"I'd think just the opposite. In a big city, everything just blends together."

Bellamy turned onto the county road that led to his house, and the landscape gave way to tall trees, chickweed, henbit, and Johnson grass. Sweet gums with gold and orange leaves stood in stark contrast to pine and cedar. When Bellamy paid attention to his surroundings, it was if he was experiencing them for the first time. The beauty of autumn in Alabama always surprised him. He had moderate winters to thank for that. Even though it was autumn, the mild weather still persisted. Today the wind chill contradicted that, but it would be short-lived.

Wheeling into the drive, Bellamy got out and went around to Clarke's side and opened her door. She sat there a minute as if taking the place in. He wondered what she saw – the way it looked as if someone nudged the house with a wrecking ball, because one side appeared dented. The second story appeared to hang off the first, and he thought if one good hurricane swept through, it might eventually slide right off. The chipped robin's egg desperately required a good paint job, or even a mediocre one.

To him, it looked loved, though, with the cheap white Christmas lights wrapped around the banister and potted succulents in the window.

He inwardly cringed though, watching her face.

"I like your house, but it's not anything like I imagined," she said after a moment.

"Really?" He raised his eyebrows. It was no secret Clarke had come from a well-to-do family. She probably lived in an expensive apartment or a mansion. "Let me guess. You figured I lived in a broken-down trailer park?" He had, for a few years of his youth, before Hurricane Katrina had left a tree in the living room.

"Why would you say that? There's nothing wrong with living in a mobile home. My best friend in junior high lived in one." Clarke's hand flew to her chest, and she gasped. "Oh!" Then she tapped her forehead. "What was her name? It was—uh—wait, it'll come to me. It's right on the tip of my tongue. Hallie. No. Hayley. It's Hayley! Hayley Fox! I remember her!" Clarke threw her arms around Bellamy's neck. He hauled her off the seat and against his chest, shivering at the feel of her breath tickling his ear.

"That's great, Clarke." The feel of her in his arms, he willed himself to a statue.

"Her brother was named Sam, and she had a dog named Whiskers." Clarke planted kisses all over Bellamy's face. "I knew this would happen as soon as I spent more time with you."

He released her and stepped out of the truck. "I didn't have anything to do with it."

"Yes, you did. The only time I feel normal is when we're together."

Bellamy didn't argue because her joyful expression looked a lot better on her than the gloom and doom from earlier. "Let's get in the house. It's cold out here."

He grabbed her bags and headed to the porch with her right behind him. Once inside, she turned in a circle until her eyes settled on the fishbowl. "You have a fish?" She leaned in close for a better view.

"Yeah, that's Alpheus."

She jerked upright and giggled. "Alpheus? That's funny. He doesn't look like an Alpheus."

He didn't feel inclined to tell her Alf was named after the Greek river god of Arcadia. Octavia had never let that go despite the fact it'd been her fish won at the peanut festival, and he wasn't going to give Clarke the ammunition. "Oh yeah? What do you think his name should be?" He wasn't altogether sure Alf was a he, but he didn't care enough to google fish anatomy and subject him to a proverbial strip search.

She pursed her lips, staring at Alf and contemplating. "I don't know. Maybe Fish Sticks, or Puff Daddy. Or Bob." She scanned the room again. "You don't have much furniture, but you have a piano. Do you play?"

He shrugged. He had bought it off a seventy year old with arthritis at a yard sale for twenty bucks, and could barely play Yankee Doodle. "No. But you do, so go try it out."

Yesterday, Bellamy had taken the time to move all the unpacked boxes into the spare bedroom. He really did need to unpack, but now that he had a house guest, it gave him another reason to procrastinate.

Clarke slid onto the bench and ran the fingers of her free hand over the keys, and stared at them as if deciding what to do next. She struck a chord on one end, worked her way to the other, and then repeated a pattern of notes. Glancing back at Bellamy, she smiled. "That's the left-hand part of All About That Bass. I'm so glad I still remember how to play."

The amazement in her eyes made him want to hug her. Thankfully someone knocked before he had time to give into the urge. Saved by the bell.

Raven pushed open the door and stepped inside and eyed them both, arms crossed over her heavily pregnant belly. There was even grease on the inside of her elbow, but he wasn't surprised. Being nearly eight months pregnant wasn't going to slow Raven Reyes down.

Bellamy cleared his throat and prayed she couldn't read his mind because his impulse had shot past an embrace in a flash. "Come in. Now that you're here, I need to head back to work." He faced Clarke. "This is Raven, she's family."

The two of them seemed to size each other up for a lengthy second, before Raven stuck out her hand and Clarke grinned as she accepted it.

No idea what that was about, but he didn't have time to ponder whether they'd end up best friends or at each other's throat.

"I'll see you later."

She rose from the bench and rushed to him, throwing her arm around his waist. "What time will you be home?"

"After seven. I'll bring a pizza."

"Okay." She stepped back and looked at Raven. "I'm sorry Bellamy's making you do this. I really will be okay by myself."

Raven shrugged, eying the two of them. He'd no doubt hear about it later. Raven would tell Octavia, who in return would tell everyone. "It's no bother. If you feel up to it, I thought I'd give you the grand tour of the town."

"Yeah, I saw some neat shops on the way home. Sounds like fun."

Bellamy opened a small box on the counter and took out a key and handed it to Clarke. "This unlocks the front and back door. Y'all have fun." He made his exit, closed the door behind him, but stopped to listen for a moment. Eavesdropping was becoming a bad habit.

"Now that's he's gone," Clarke said. "Tell me everything about him. About us."

* * *

When Raven finished brushing over all the high points of Bellamy's life, Clarke loved him even more. He was everything she'd ever wanted. A selfless man who put others first. But the one thing missing from the summary had been any mention of her relationship with him. Raven had been extra careful to omit the slightest tidbit remotely connected to Clarke, and that ignited a slimy panic in her gut.

More proof there may have been trouble in paradise, and she'd come here to win him back. Well, that's exactly what she'd do. Forget about what might have caused the riff; she just needed to concentrate on making things right. Unless—he'd done the one thing she considered unforgivable—cheat. She hastily forced the thought from her head; he didn't seem the type. Rarely anyone ever did, but he seemed like the reluctant one in the situation.

Had she cheated?

"Thanks for telling me about Bellamy. He doesn't talk about himself much. Well, actually, he doesn't talk much at all." She stared down at her open palms, putting two and two together. The more she ruminated, the more she was slowly convincing herself maybe the problem was really her. But surely none of his friends or family would treat her nicely, amnesia or no, had she broken his heart.

Raven snorted. "Yeah, he's the silent brooding type, which can be a problem because you never know what he's thinking."

"I just have one question." She clasped her palms together, wondering if she should confide in Raven. She liked the girl, but she was Bellamy's friend. "He's—not very affectionate, and that leads me to believe our relationship might have been in trouble before the accident."

Raven stiffened, and Clarke's stomach somersaulted, but she had to press on. Better to find out before things went too far. "Has Bellamy ever cheated on me?"

Raven rolled her eyes and groaned loudly, an indicator of how she felt about the subject. She sighed, watching Clarke waiting in suspense. "Absolutely not. He'd never cheat."

"Did I cheat on him?" She hadn't anticipated breathing life into that question, but she had to know to quash the queasy feeling in her stomach.

"No," Raven answered a matter-of-factly.

Clarke loosed the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Now she could move forward with her plan to regain what they had before the accident.

She waved her hand in front of her body. "All the clothes I have are depressing. Is there a dress shop in town?"

"We have a new one. They carry trendy stuff." She waved her hand, "I guess. But if you don't find anything you like there, later this week, we could head out to Polis. They have more to choose from."

"Polis…that sounds familiar." Clarke cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. "I may have gone to a carnival there."

"Oh, really? They have one that comes every September during the county fair. Maybe you went to that one."

"Hmm, maybe. I'm not sure. Oh, wait. I don't know what I'm thinking. I can't shop. I don't have any money. Mr. Kane – Marcus… my godfather, is supposed to send me a new debit card, but I don't have it yet."

"That's okay. I'm sure Maya will let you open an account. She and I graduated together. I'll vouch for you."

* * *

Two hours later, Clarke took stock of her purchases. Jeans, leggings, sweaters, tops, two pairs of boots, lace bras, cheeky panties, and sleepwear. She'd gone all out choosing leather, fringe, lace, plunging necklines and dangling earrings. If her look didn't get Bellamy's attention, then the sexy lingerie should do the trick.

During her shopping frenzy, her handicap became clearer, with only one hand, she needed help dressing and undressing. But that was okay, once Bellamy saw her naked again, then maybe he wouldn't be able to resist. She wasn't slim as Raven, all lithe and muscle beneath her belly, but she had gratuitous cleavage and a nice figure.

The clothes in her suitcase screamed frugality, and she hoped that was true because she'd just gone in debt for quite a lot of moola. If she'd not been thrifty in her previous life, then she might not have enough in her bank account to cover it. If not, she'd just have to set up a payment plan, because she couldn't bring herself to wear those hideous, colorless, garments one more day. It wasn't… her. That's why she'd worn one new ensemble out of the store.

When Bellamy's house came into view, a strange car sat in the drive. As they drew closer, Clarke recognized the occupant.

Raven leaned forward and squinted her eyes. "Who is that?"

Clarke echoed the movement. "Marcus—I mean, my godfather. Wonder why he's here?"

Raven parked next to him, then turned to Clarke. "I heard Aurora is going out with him next weekend, and it's the first date she's had since Octavia's dad died."

She nodded. "Yeah, I know. Bellamy isn't too happy about it."

Raven made a face. "One thing you'll learn… or re-learn, I guess, is that Bellamy is a Mom. He is a mother hen. Especially when it comes to his mother and Octavia. But he needs to get over it. At least where Aurora is concerned. She could use someone in her life. I know she gets lonely, and once Octavia leaves for college, it will only get worse." She shrugged, before adding, "She was like a second mother to me growing up. My mom… she liked to drink."

As Raven gathered the bags, Marcus got out of his car came around to open Clarke's door.

She gazed up at him. "What are you doing here?"

He stepped closer and opened his arms. "Can I have a hug?"

At first, she hesitated, but his sad expression put her into action. She knew her amnesia was hurtful, but there wasn't much she could do about it. A hug wouldn't kill her. Walking into his embrace, he pulled her close, arms tightening around her in a way that brought tears prickling to her eyes. Not from the tight constraint, but the simple feel of a hug by someone that loved you.

She wondered if their relationship had been a good one, or if it had been strained. Probably not since she worked for him, and the way he held her, said a lot. Almost like it was the last time he'd get to do it. Almost… paternal. She knew from his stories he watched her grow up, like an ever present, well meaning, uncle.

"I wanted to be here when they released you but had a couple of client meetings I couldn't miss. I just got back from Atlanta. Abby sends her love." Clarke eased away from him, and he let her go, then walked to meet Raven half-way. "You must be Bellamy's sister. I recognize you from the many photos your mother has. I'm Marcus Kane."

"Friend. Octavia's his only sister." Raven set the bags on the ground and accepted his outstretched hand. "So nice to meet you." She nodded to the packages. "Clarke and I took a little shopping trip, and I'd love to stay and chat, but I have to pick my daughter up at school."

"Lina, right?"

If Raven was surprised he knew her kids name, she didn't show it. It only left Clarke a little miffed, Marcus knowing more about Bellamy and his life than she did.

"That's right." Raven turned to go, then stopped and faced him again. "Octavia told me you invited Aurora for dinner. It's time she started thinking of herself for a change."

He blushed and dipped his head like a nervous school boy. "Well, don't give me too much credit. It's as much for me as her. Plus, it gives me a reason to see Clarke more."

As Raven maneuvered herself into her low car and peeled away from the curb, Clarke followed her guest to the porch, then stepped around him to unlock the door.

Once inside, he sat down the bags and took an envelope from his jacket pocket. "Nobody but you can get your debit card replaced, so I've brought you a company card. Use it for whatever you need. No limit. I've ordered you some new checks, and you should have them in about ten days, until then, here are some of my checks. I've signed them, so keep them safe. I made arrangements at the local bank for you to have cashing privileges. I wrote your savings and checking balances on this envelope." He handed it over. "Inside is a letter of credit from my bank. I noticed Polis has three car dealerships. Go to any of them, buy what you want, and this will take care of it."

Clarke's brows skyrocketed, and she blinked at him, speechless. She had anticipated a limit, even having to get another job to pay for herself. "You're buying me a car? Did you own my last one?"

"No. You bought it. Once you're back home, we'll get it all sorted out, but until then, I don't want you to be without transportation." From his other pocket, he brought out another item. "Or a phone." He handed it to her. "Oh, and I filed on your auto insurance. You should receive a settlement check in the next ten days."

Clarke felt like a puffer fish, gaping out at the world from a glass bowl. "What about my bills? I'm assuming I have some."

He waved her off, as if providing for her and buying her a vehicle were the equivalent of a bill at brunch. "Everything is current until December 1. Don't worry about anything. Just concentrate on getting back on your feet."

She twisted her mouth around. The first of the month was only two weeks away. "You mean getting back my memory?"

He put a hand on her shoulder, and she supposed that was meant to be comforting. "That, too. But you still have wounds and a broken arm to mend."

She scrunched her eyebrows. "You said everything is paid until the end of November. You think I'll recover my past by then?"

He took a deep breath. "I don't know, but I hope spending time with you over the next few days, makes you comfortable enough you'll come back home if you have your memory or not. If that doesn't happen, then returning to Atlanta, being in familiar surroundings, might speed up the process. I want you to consider that."

This guy was good. No wonder he was a successful lawyer. Even if he'd cleverly disguised a two-week deadline, he wasn't fooling her.

* * *

After Raven's first two texts, Bellamy had turned off his phone. Bad enough Clarke kept creeping into his thoughts, but getting play-by-play of their day proved too much. Now that his new roommate had moved in, he needed to concentrate on just surviving her stay. As he brought more people into the charade, the situation got complicated. He really shouldn't expect Raven or anyone else to buy into the ridiculous deception he'd agreed to.

While Miller gathered and loaded the last of the hazard cones, Bellamy removed his rubber sleeves and gloves, then fished in his pocket for the roll of antacids. By the time Clarke left, he'd have a bleeding ulcer for sure. Working twelve hour days would help limit his time with her, and then on Friday, her crew would return for the weekend. Bellamy planned to suggest she spend as much time with them as possible. If for no other reason than to get to know them again. Just because she had no memory, didn't change the fact that they were family. And it might jog her memory anyway.

Miller removed his hard hat and ran his fingers along his buzzed scalp. "Man, I'm beat. You want a grab a beer after we get back to town?"

He shook his head. "No. I need to get home. Clarke's there by herself, and since she doesn't have a phone, I need to check on her." He wanted to go; he already sort of dreaded coming home, but at the same time…

Miller saw right through him. "I thought you said Raven went over there."

"She did. But only until she had to pick up Lina."

Once on the road, Miller glanced over at Bellamy, grinned, and lifted his brows. "Guess you'll have a bed partner tonight."

Bellamy shot him a glare, blocking the already forming image of Clarke in his bed. Naked. He gulped. "We're sleeping together. Sleep. That's all."

He snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say."

"What does that mean?" Bellamy huffed.

Miller cocked his head, and Bellamy wanted to smack away his friend's smirk.

"Hey, just saying having a willing woman next to you is going to be hard to resist. Clarke is beautiful."

Bellamy scowled. "Aren't you solely into men?"

Miller shrugged, "I can appreciate beauty, whether or not I'm attracted to it."

Bellamy scrubbed a palm over his face. "As tired as I am, it won't be a problem. And here's some good news. Ten-day forecast looks like a bad storm is brewing up east. If that plays out, we might be deployed to the area."

"For the overtime pay or getting as far away as possible from her?" Miller grinned. He really was enjoying this.

Even if the storm site was inaccessible for a bucket truck, and he had to drag fifty pounds of equipment while wearing protective gear, it would be easier than dealing with Clarke.

"Both," he grumbled. "But mostly staying away from her."

"Why is that? I thought you liked Clarke."

He sighed, defeated. Try as he might, and Clarke unknowingly weaseled right in, left herself seared into his mind. And his heart. "Yeah. That's the problem. I like her too damn much."

* * *

 **Another filler, sorry. I'm used to writing original fiction so I'm used to writing novel length stories.**

 **As usual, Bell is in trouble :P**

 **Since its show day, I might upload another chapter later before the premiere if ya'll like. Bellamy will be pushed to his limits.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Warning, this is second chapter I've posted today, so if you haven't read the first one I've posted earlier today, you might want too. Or not.**

* * *

A strong gust blew the door closed on Bellamy's truck. What started out as a mild autumn day had turned into blustering winds with a twenty-degree drop in temperature. Thank God it held off until after work, but only in Alabama would you need your air conditioning and heater in the same day.

Bellamy kept a firm grip on the pizza box as he headed inside with three things on his mind. Eat. Hot shower. Early bedtime. But when he opened the door, his mind detoured down a different road. Soft music played. Candles flickered in the dim light. And temptation stood before him dressed in ragged jeans and an off-the-shoulder pale pink sweater trimmed with fringe. Holy fuck.

He barely had time to set the box on the counter before she rushed forward, pulled him into a hug, and rested her head against his chest. "I'm glad you're home." Mechanically, his arms wound around her, feeling her softness aligned with him, her hair tickling his nose. She smelled like his shampoo, but it suited her. He preferred it on her.

She backed away and gazed up at him, then ran her palm down his cheek. "You look exhausted. Why don't you sit down and I'll bring you a beer."

He didn't argue the surrealistic feeling of feeling like he'd just stepped in a 1950s comedy where he was The Man and she was the pinup housewife slash Genie. Instead, he wordlessly headed that direction and collapsed onto a chair. Within a minute, she was back with a drink in hand and a plate of pizza balanced on her forearm. She set both on the floor, then knelt to one side and placed her fingers on his boot laces.

"Hey, I can do that," he scowled. She was the one who'd just got home from the hospital, he should be waiting on her, not the other way around. "Get some pizza and join me."

She ignored him. "Raven and I had a big lunch, so I'm not really hungry. Let me take your boots off first. It'll make you feel better."

He tried to remove his foot from her grasp, to little avail. Even with one hand, she was strong. He had a feeling even before the accident, no one would sway Clarke Griffin from anything she set her mind to. "No doubt, but I better warn you, my feet aren't going to smell like roses."

She giggled and damn how he loved the sound. Crazy how something so simple could lift his spirits, but it did—every time.

"That's okay."

He cleared his throat. "I think your entire family will be here this weekend, so you should plan to spend time with them. Maybe that will be the catalyst to recover your memories."

She slipped the first boot from his foot and started on the other. "A few hours ago, Marcus basically said the same thing. You two aren't ganging up on me, are you?"

"You talked to him? How?" Bellamy shook his head. "Oh, you used Raven's phone."

"Nope. He's in town. Plans to stay the rest of the week." She sighed, "And I know you don't want to hear this, but it's probably as much about seeing your mom as it is me."

Bellamy frowned. Dammit. He didn't want his mother getting involved with Marcus Kane for a lot of reasons. Chance of getting hurt. Long distant relationship. Falling in love and moving away. He shuddered at the last thought. "I don't get it. He's a nice looking guy. A lawyer. Just the kind of combination women want. Why doesn't he already have a girlfriend?"

Clarke snorted and wiggled the boot back and forth, then set it next to the other one, and peeled off both of his socks. "You ask as if I know. I don't even have a clue as to why I'm dating you, much less anything about his love life, or anyone else's."

Washing down another bite, and treading on dangerous ground, Bellamy dropped the subject before she bombarded him with questions he might not be able to truthfully answer. "How was your visit with Raven?"

Clarke stood and twirled. "We went shopping. I bought a lot of stuff." She straightened the sweater. "Do you like this?"

"You look beautiful." He didn't mean to say it aloud, but the words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them.

She widened her eyes. "Do you really think I'm beautiful?"

He swallowed and smiled shyly. This was dangerous territory. "From the first moment I saw you."

Tears flooded down her cheeks, and she wiped at them with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry. Since I can't remember anything, that's the first time anyone has said that to me. I don't consider myself beautiful. Cute maybe and most of the time that's pushing it."

Now he snorted, shaking off the alarm of her sudden tears - glad she wasn't having an existential crisis. That, she was owed. It was a preposterous thought, that anyone, herself included, would not find Clarke the most beautiful thing they'd ever seen. "Well, you're cute, too," he grumbled.

She scooted a chair next to his, sat, leaned in, and planted a kiss on his cheek. "When is your next day off?"

"Day after tomorrow. Why?"

"I need to buy a car. Marcus arranged for me to buy one. So, I thought you and I could go car shopping. I also need a laptop."

"Any idea what model you want to buy?"

"No. Nothing fancy. It can even be used."

"We'll talk about it later. Right now, I'm going to take a quick shower and go to bed."

* * *

Bellamy placed his hands flat against the tile, hung his head and let hot spray rinse the lather away. He didn't want to think anymore. Not about cars, or his mother and Marcus, or work tomorrow, or especially how gorgeous Clarke looked kneeling in front of him.

She belonged to another man. Granted, one Bellamy didn't approve of, and who didn't deserve her, but still, her choice. And he had no right to question that. Needed to keep pounding that fact into his brain. Just as he'd never cheat on a woman, he'd never move in on another person's territory.

Turning off the water, he slid the shower curtain to one side and flinched when he found Clarke waiting. Waiting there. Silently. In the bathroom. With him. Like a serial killer.

Her eyes roamed over him from top to bottom, then she grinned wolfishly and offered a towel. "Want me to dry your back?"

He shook his head, took the towel, and wrapped it around his waist, trying to stave off the alarmed pounding of his heart - at Clarke finding him naked, or being surprised in a slippery tub, he didn't know. "Didn't expect an audience."

She stepped closer, leaned in, and licked a drop of water from his nipple.

Sweet Jesus. Apparently, his cock wasn't as tired at the rest of him, because it jumped to attention. "What are you doing?"

One look into her eyes and he saw the wildness, the lust, the hunger that lurked brazenly above the surface. "I've wanted to see you naked for days. I figured this was my best chance."

Hell, he didn't know what to say to that—thank you? He wasn't sure about the rules of etiquette concerning seduction. She raked her hand down his chest, skimming the surface of his skin with her fingertips, nails brushing nipples, then lower. He caught it before she made it all the way to Captain Happy. "You can't do that."

Those damn eyes of hers—full of promise, turned him inside out. She backed away and smirked, her eyes flashing quicksilver. "I really didn't plan to do it alone. I was kind of hoping you'd want to join in."

Stepping out of the tub, he angled around her. If she touched him, that'd be the end of it. "Doctor's orders. Remember?" His voice sounded husky even to his own ears. "No messing around for two weeks."

She sat on the edge of the tub with a thud. "Oh, come on. I promise I'll let you do all the work, so I don't raise my blood pressure." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

He dipped his head and pinned her with his gaze. "Now that wouldn't be much fun, would it? I like a team effort in that particular sport. Besides, I'm too tired to give my best performance." Jesus. Clarke was going to be the end of him. He'd happily do all the work, worship at the shrine of Clarke Griffin, but… she was entirely off limits to him.

Crossing her arms, she huffed out a breath. "Fine. You win." Then she leaned over the tub and turned the spigot. "I need to take a bath, and you'll have to help me get out of these clothes."

Fuck. Just when he thought he'd won the round, she came back with a new play. "Oh, okay." He faced her, and she lifted her cast as best she could for him to strip the sweater over her head. She undid the button on her pants and slid down the zipper. Hooking a finger in the waistband of her panties, she wiggled one way and then the other to glide them and her jeans over her hips.

Bellamy joined in and got them to her ankles, kneeling in the process. He closed his eyes to keep from looking at her. Talk about a case of blue balls, if this kept up, he'd have a permanent condition.

She spun around, putting her back to him. "Unhook my bra, please."

His mouth went dry. He rubbed his palm over his face and prayed for strength. As soon as the bra was free, she twirled to face him, putting his eyes level with her breasts.

His gasp didn't go unnoticed, because she ran her fingers through his hair, and brought his face to rest against her creamy cleavage. God help him. She was killing him, and if he should die right now, he'd go straight to hell for what he was thinking of doing to her.

There was only so much torture he could take. He pressed his lips to her soft skin and breathed her in. God, she smelled good. Like sin waiting to happen. Devil's candy. And Bellamy craved it.

He ran his hands up her spine, then down to her ass, cupped both cheeks and squeezed. He could have her. Right here. Right now. Against the wall. On the floor. All he had to do was surrender to the lust boiling his blood. Give her what she wanted. Bury deep inside her, and make her scream his name.

The thought brought him to his senses. Even if it was his name she shouted, it wasn't him she wanted. His head spun as he jerked away and stood.

She moaned at the separation. "Why did you stop? I didn't want you to."

Bleary eyed, he blinked to gain focus. "We can't do this. I can't. Turn your water off before the tub overflows." He reached for the door and left before she could manage a response.

Clarke sank low in the tub, hanging her casted arm over the side. She'd really needed Bellamy to help put a plastic bag on it, but his hasty retreat left her confused and naked. Literally. She smiled. That sounded like a reality show. In her current state, she could star in that one for sure. Or an alternate title. Aroused and Alone. Lost and Lustful. Horny and Homeless.

She couldn't help but laugh, and Lord knew she needed to because right now, there wasn't anything funny about her life. Wounds to heal. Strangers for family. A brain that wouldn't work, and a man she loved who kept pushing her away.

Squeezing the water from her washcloth, she bathed her face, then set to work with the rest of her body. Doing everything one-handed proved challenging, but she needed to do as much for herself as possible and not depend on Bellamy.

Raven had made clear his moral compass. Clarke liked that—to a degree. Probably one of the reasons she'd fallen in love him because even if she didn't remember her past, strong principles were important. He'd proved that by not giving in to her advances. Clearly, he had her best interests at heart and didn't want to do anything to delay her recovery. She needed to remind herself of that and not take his behavior as rejection.

When she'd seen him naked, the strangest feeling had swept over her. As ripped as he was, his defined abs, roped veins, and hard muscles should have sparked something. Yet, it was like seeing him for the first time. Man, if she could erase such a fine specimen of manhood, especially one she'd been intimate with, then her brain really was in trouble.

She climbed out of the water, dried off, and then spent the next ten minutes struggling to get into her pajamas. By leaning against the wall and balancing on her left foot, she threaded one leg at a time through her pants. After that, she made several attempts with the top, finding the best method was to put her injured arm through first, followed by her head, then contort her body into a crazy position to get the other arm through the remaining sleeve.

By the time she finished, her heart pounded, sweat glistened above her lip, and she shook all over. Talk about elevated blood pressure, hers had probably skyrocketed from the effort. She rested her arms on her thighs and leaned forward, taking several deep breaths. Tears waited, but she willed them away. Shame washed over her. She had no reason for a pity party. So many people had permanent injuries. Hers was only temporary. So what if it took longer to get dressed? A small price to pay for her good fortune. She sniffed, dabbed at her watery eyes, and headed to bed.

She'd apologize to Bellamy for trying to seduce him and promise not to repeat it. He was right. In two weeks, she'd be back to normal, physically, so no need to rush things.

She slipped in next to him, rested her head on his shoulder and laid her arm across his chest.

He stirred but said nothing.

She traced circles with her pointer finger across his chest. "I'm sorry about before. I won't pressure you to have sex anymore. I'll still need help dressing, but I'll behave. It's unfair to tempt you knowing we have doctor's rules to follow. Okay?"

Again, no response.

She pushed up on her elbow and gazed down at him. Even in the dark, she could tell how soundly he slept. So much for her apology. It would have to wait until morning. She flopped onto her back and let the rhythm of his breathing lull her to sleep.

Crazy dreams had Clarke thrashing in bed. A cowboy spitting tobacco. Papers flying from a briefcase. A couple having sex in a closet. All the while, she hovered above each scene, eating a candy bar. Nothing made sense. Split second images and faceless characters.

If she concentrated, maybe she could slow the motion and bring things into focus. She swallowed the last bite of chocolate, then floated—to a church. Stars were out, so it must be evening. Inside, candelabras were in place, but not lit. A wedding. Ah, the closet couple. Clarke giggled. The betrothed were rehearsing the honeymoon! Her head pounded. No. That didn't seem right. She drifted closer and directed her attention to the woman, but couldn't make out anything but curly brown hair adorned with braids.

Next, she moved to the cowboy. He tipped his hat. Was she at a rodeo? She pulled a long breath in through her nose. Nope. Not a single whiff of manure. Neon reflected off plate glass windows in every direction. A bar? No. A convenience store parking lot. Probably where she got the candy.

Dark clouds gathered overhead, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Clarke reached for an umbrella, and one magically appeared. But when she opened it, the papers from the briefcase hung from the spokes. Wind whipped them loose, but as quickly as one flew away, another replaced it. She tried to catch a piece and got a papercut for her attempt. Pain seared up her arm and she startled awake, jerking upright as the faces of the closet couple came in vivid color.

A gasp caught in her throat. Clarke's fiancé and maid of honor! She buried her head in her pillow and sobbed.

Bellamy came to life, hastily groping the nightstand for glasses. "What's wrong?"

Great. When she had wanted to talk, he'd slept through it, but her quiet sobs were enough to wake him? With all the women in his family, maybe he was more in tune with female emotions. If so, this was all he needed. One more weepy woman to deal with.

"Nothing. I had a dream." She sniffed and wiped at her cheeks. "About my past. I remember something."

He rubbed her back soothingly, pressed his lips to her hair. "Something bad?"

His expression and the concern in his voice made her want to snuggle close and let him wrap his arms around her because ever since she regained consciousness, his embrace had been her safe haven. The one place she didn't have to worry about what she could and couldn't recall. She marveled at his patience. In a man his age, it was unnatural, but he didn't push. Didn't try to get her to remember.

"I was engaged. She cheated. With a mutual friend of ours. The night before our wedding." Clarke worked hard to keep the quiver from her voice but didn't succeed.

Bellamy pulled her against his chest. "She didn't deserve you."

She leaned away and gazed up at him. "You know her?"

"Don't have to. Anyone who'll do what she did isn't worth your tears."

Clarke wiped at her cheeks with her sleeve to the best of her ability. "You're right. I'm not even crying over her. I mean, where Lexa's concerned, I feel nothing. But the heartbreak feels—like it just happened. Is that crazy?"

She could feel his eyes on her.

"Since the memory is new, makes sense disappointment is too."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "I couldn't see it at the time, but she did me a favor. It led me to you."

He swallowed, and his voice cracked, just barely. "Is that how you see me?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm not perfect. Far from it, and it's a mistake for you to think that."

"Why? Do you have some dark secret I don't remember yet?"

"No, but I'm just a regular guy with plenty of flaws. Just ask my sister."

Clarke pressed her lips to his neck and inhaled. He even smelled perfect. She licked the spot, and he flinched. God, he tasted perfect, too. "I don't care about your faults. Leave the toilet seat up? Fine. Pile your dirty clothes on the floor? No problem. Dirty dishes in the sink?"

He pressed the pad of his thumb against her lips. "I'm not talking about those things. More about my personality. Just about everyone I know tells me I feel too much. Think too much. Even care too much. I try to fix everything for everybody, and when I can't, it bothers me."

She knew he was a people pleaser, and always tried to take care of everyone from her experience and how others described him. She pursed her lips, kissing the top of his finger against her mouth. "So, you're saying you're moody?" She raised her eyebrows playfully.

He chuckled. "Among other things."

She nestled into his warmth. "Well, apparently nothing you do is enough to drive me crazy, because with all the chaos inside my head, there's only one thing I've been sure of from the beginning, and that's how much I love you."

Silence reigned supreme. When he finally spoke up, his voice was soft, unsure. "Yeah, but you can't remember the past, so how can you be so sure about that?"

She scooted away, sat crossed legged, and looked down at him. Raven had already answered Clarke's next question, but no harm in getting confirmation. Besides, his sister probably didn't know everything about him. "So, what if you're moody, so am I. There's only one thing I can't forgive or get past, and that's cheating. And you haven't done that, have you?"

* * *

"No. Never." The answer stopped him. The truth within a lie. Wonder how she'd feel about that? He wouldn't have long to wait with her memory returning. This latest revelation moved the period from junior high best friend to lying ex, and according to Marcus, that happened three years ago. If the pattern held, she'd remember her real boyfriend soon.

Her voice shook Bellamy from his thoughts.

"You're not mad that I asked, are you?"

"Why would I be?"

She bit her lip and looked down at her lap. "Because I should trust you—and I do, but…"

He took her hand in his. "I understand. If you could recall your past, you would have known the answer. I get it." Yeah, he got it all right. In a short time, she'd hate him more than she ever thought she loved him. But that would be okay, because she'd never really love him, and he would learn to live with it.

He shifted and pulled up the cover. "Enough talk. I have to get up early." She lay back again but didn't move next to him. "Just one more thing. Since my… since Marcus… is staying a few days, I'll get him to go car shopping with me. No need for you to give up your day off to haul me from place to place."

An odd feeling passed over Bellamy. He almost felt—rejected. Hell, what was wrong with him? One minute he wanted her to leave, and the next, got offended she chose to be with her family. Damn, he was losing it. "Good idea, since he wants more time with you and by doing so, it might speed up your recovery."

She didn't say anything else, just put her back to him, and snuggled deeper into the mattress. Earlier, he'd pretended to be asleep when she'd offered her apology, so he figured this was the first step in keeping her promise of backing off on the touchy feeling stuff. Thank God. Being close to her and remaining a gentleman was harder than he thought it'd be. If he dissected her looks, there really wasn't anything special about her. Shoulder length blond hair. Blue eyes—who the hell was he kidding? Everything about her was special, all wrapped up in a tidy little package. That was the damn problem.

And he'd compounded it by giving in to a moment of desire. The memory of how her skin felt against his lips, and the sight of her full, rounded breasts, had his heart doing double time.

He'd tried like hell to find something about her he didn't like and so far, no luck. Staring at thirteen more days—helping her undress—seeing her naked—lying next to her—would be torture, but he'd survive. He had no choice.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind and concentrated on sleep. Tomorrow's forecast called for cloudy, cold, and windy. Working at the top of a pole in those conditions, the last thing he needed was sleep deprivation—and a woman on his mind. Especially one he wanted and couldn't have.

* * *

The next morning, Clarke didn't move when Bellamy slipped out of bed, which was a good thing. The less conversation with her, the better. So as not to disturb her, after brushing his teeth, he went to the front of the house to dress. No need to make coffee, he could just hit the drive thru.

He paused long enough to jot a note and drop some fish flakes into Alpheus' bowl, before heading out the door. A sharp cut of frigid air met him when he stepped outside. The weatherman had not missed today's prediction, but Bellamy had a feeling every time he replayed the bathroom scene from last night, he'd break out in a sweat.

* * *

Clarke opened her eyes and listened. No sounds from the kitchen. No light on in the bathroom. Bellamy must have left already. Just as well. With only one working hand, fixing his breakfast was out of the question. More like he'd have to cook for her, and he'd already done so much, she didn't want to take more advantage of his generosity.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and texted Marcus. Within a few seconds, he answered, and just as Bellamy had predicted, he welcomed the prospect of car shopping.

With the problem of getting dressed looming over her, she scooted out of bed. She'd be able to manage everything—but a bra. Since she had no choice, guessed she'd go without one. At least the cool weather provided the opportunity to wear a jacket.

Once she'd put herself together, she ambled into the living room and studied the place. Shopping the day before, then visiting with her godfather, she'd not really given much attention to how bare the furnishings were. Hardly any furniture. No artwork. Not a single tchotchke, unless she counted the wooden bowl Bellamy kept his change in, the piece of petrified wood on the mantle, the three pillar candles she'd scrounged, and a handmade framed photograph of a dark haired, gap toothed little girl she guessed to be Octavia, arms wrapped around taller, freckled boy. Odd she didn't remember any of this. Surely she'd been to his house before now.

A note on the counter caught her eye. Here's my cell number. Please text me yours. Dinner at Mom's tonight at 7:00. I fed Alpheus.

She didn't get Bellamy. One minute he buried his face between her breasts, the next, didn't even bother to sign his note. No Love, Bellamy. No, see you later. No nothing. But yet, he offered her comfort at any sign of sadness. Maybe this was an example of what he'd said last night. Moodiness. Or, maybe he was just a man of few words. Whatever the reason, she wouldn't question it. Not until her brain got back in order because she had nowhere else to go. If she pushed him too hard, he might ask her to leave, and staying here with a few unanswered issues was much easier than coping with a world full of strangers.

She entered Bellamy's number into her contacts, then took a minute to text hers. Unlike him, she added something more than just the requested information. Have a nice day. And a smiley face emoji. She might have memory problems, but he definitely had barrier difficulties. He'd put a wall—really four, and boxed his emotions inside. Every now and then, like last night in the bathroom, kneeling before her naked body, he let his guard down, if only for a moment. But quickly retreated. That was okay. She had plenty of time to tear the barricade down, and she would, even if it was one brick at a time.

Tonight, would be an excellent opportunity to start the demolition. Meeting his mother—again, because Clarke was sure they'd met before. However, she needed to heed Dr Nyko's warning. Don't interrogate people trying to force memory to return. Such actions would only cause more stress. Just let things happen naturally. She'd broken that rule yesterday trying to pump information from Raven, and the doctor was right. Since then, Clarke had been overthinking everything. Even the lack of a signature on a silly note.

The sound of a car door had her scurrying to the window. She turned and grabbed a scarf and wound it around her neck letting the ends drape over her breasts. That way, when she opened the door to a cold blast of air, it wouldn't matter if the girls snapped to attention. Certainly wouldn't be comfortable about Marcus seeing her with a full nipple alert.

She didn't wait for his knock, just threw open the door, and as she expected, a blast of frigid air hit her dead center.

"Come in."

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, sir." She lifted her jacket from the chair and pushed it toward him. "Would you mind helping me get this on?"

"Not at all."

He held it out, and she worked at getting the cast through the sleeve, then easily slipped in her other arm. "Thank you."

He placed his hand on her shoulder. "I can't tell you how happy I was when you texted. I started to offer yesterday to help you look, but then you mentioned going with Bellamy, and I didn't want to interfere."

She turned to face him. "I wasn't thinking clearly. I shouldn't depend on him for everything."

Marcus pulled his brows together. "Did he say he didn't want to take you?"

She shook her head. "Oh, no. He'd never do that. With you here, it's more logical for us to go together. Besides, you said you wanted to spend time with me, so this makes sense."

"Aurora—Bellamy's mom, is doing her part. She invited us to dinner tonight."

"I know. Bellamy left a note about it."

Marcus put his hand on the doorknob. "Okay, are you ready? Have you thought about what model you want?"

She should say something nice. Like how much she appreciated him being here and his willingness to pay for a car. But each time she thought of doing that, a knot formed in her throat and choked the words. He really was a nice man. His expression spoke volumes as to how much he cared. And there was fear there, too, and Clarke could relate to that. Just as she was afraid she'd never retrieve her memories, she figured he was terrified he'd never regain the version of Clarke he knew. The least she could do was offer encouragement along that line. She slung her purse strap over her shoulder. "No. I guess I'll know when I see it. Oh, and I remembered something else from my past."

He widened his eyes. "You did? What?"

"We'll talk about it on the way."

Outside, wind whipped the collar of her jacket up. She yanked it tighter and dipped her chin deeper into her scarf.

He opened the passenger door and let Clarke in, then snapped her seat belt into place like she was a child. She'd bet he'd been the kind of guy who'd helped with his friends' kids. Probably even changed diapers. She bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. Somehow, the thought of him doing that struck her as funny.

He slid in behind the wheel but didn't start the car, clearly anxious to hear what she had to say. "So—about what you remembered…"

She took a deep breath. "What was my fiancée's name?"

"Lexa."

She nodded at the confirmation. "And my maid of honor?"

He reached over and took her hand. "Oh, sweetie. I'm sorry. I was hoping it was a happy memory."

God, Clarke wanted to kick herself. Why was it when she talked about this, tears came? She didn't give a crap about Lexa. Didn't even remember their past. But yet, the waterworks turned on full force when she did. She shook her head. "I don't know why I'm crying. I don't remember them. How can that be? I mean—why do I have a physical reaction without being connected to an emotional one?"

He sandwiched her hand between his big paws. "I can't answer that. Hell, I don't have an answer for anything concerning your condition. I wish I did, then maybe I could fix it."

She whispered a laugh. "You sound like Bellamy." And then it hit her. That's why she'd fallen in love with him. He was good, like Marcus. The same soft tone. Caring expression. Comforting touch. And they both wanted to fix everything. Even with no past to draw on, it all made perfect sense.

Pulling her hand free, she dug a tissue from her purse, then wiped at her tears. "He's like you, you know. Bellamy. You're both sweet, loving, and think of others before yourself. I just realized that." She took a deep breath. "So, what was my best friend's name? And what happened to them?"

"Costia. And the fire between them burned out pretty quickly. They're engaged. Planning a summer wedding. Regrets what she did."

Clarke cut her eyes over at him. "You think I should forgive her?"

He hesitated, staring out the dash, eyes on the road. "Forgive her? Yes. Forget? No. Just because you forgive someone doesn't mean you have to accept them back into your life."

She smiled. "You sound like a lawyer."

He chuckled. "Yeah, well, can't help that. So, about the car. I thought we'd check out the Chevy place first."

During the next few hours, Clarke discovered another similarity between Bellamy and Marcus. They both had plenty of patience. Unable to make a decision at the first dealership, without complaint, he'd hauled her to three more. Finally, she narrowed her search to either a Malibu or a Honda Civic. Since they shared most of the same features, it came down to body style and color. Three back and forth trips later, she chose the smokey gray Chevy. The deciding factor might have had something to do with the salesman pointing out how the vehicle enhanced the color of her eyes. She wasn't sure about that, but talk of horsepower, cylinders, engine size, and throttle response made her dizzy. Miles per gallon, she understood, and since she'd be traveling from Atlanta to Arkadia, and vice versa, 41 highway mpg sounded good. And then there was the eye thing. The sales guy had said it with such conviction, she couldn't help but be convinced.

By the time she got back home, it was almost five. Yesterday, because of all the walking she'd done during her shopping trip with Raven, Clarke had not felt guilty about skipping her daily exercise assignment, but today, she'd done little hoofing it. More sitting. In the car. At sales desk. In the restaurant, which had turned out to be a pleasant experience.

Her and Marcus had fallen into companionable conversation. He'd been forthcoming about her relationship with Lexa, and how Costia's actions had caused Clarke to shy away from some of her friendships. Understandable. She couldn't think of any greater betrayal, than having two people she loved, lie and cheat. She would've been better off with Wells as her Patrick Dempsey.

That was all behind her, and she was in a good place. At least she would be, as soon as her memory fully recovered, and no doubt it would, because spending time with Marcus had helped her remember one more thing. A story she'd have to share with Bellamy.

Before Marcus left, she'd had him help lace her athletic shoes. The road in front of Bellamy's house wasn't paved, but since her pace would be slow, it shouldn't make a difference. She stepped outside to the porch and lifted one leg to the railing, then bent to put her nose to her knee. She repeated the stretch on the other side, then filled her lungs with air, and set off.

Other than a couple of squirrels chasing each other, she had the road to herself. She'd been cooped up in a hospital room for so long, the brisk air gave her a heady rush. After the conversation she'd had about her wedding fiasco, she could finally think about it without crying.

He'd told her how Lexa had tried for months to apologize, and how Clarke had ignored her calls, texts, and emails. Apparently, once she eliminated someone from her life, they stayed that way. She liked that about herself. If she couldn't trust someone, she'd rather have no friends.

A catchy little tune popped into her head, and by the time she got back home, she wanted to scratch it down on a note so as not to forget it. Not an easy task with her left hand, but she'd probably be able to get a few words legible enough to remind her. She went to the bedroom to find a notepad. Opening a desk drawer, she rummaged through it with no luck. Moving to the next one, she shuffled papers and pens, and just when she remembered her phone had a recording feature, her hand brushed across something fuzzy.

She clasped the item and pulled it out. A jeweler's box. Heart slamming against her ribs and fingers trembling, she raised the lid. Holy shit. An engagement ring! She staggered to the bed and collapsed onto it.

She had to remember.

Because as soon as she did, Bellamy planned to propose.

* * *

 **Now ya'll prob gonna have this chapter and another cliffhanger when 100 starts tonight. Sorry not sorry ;P Told ya, Bellamy is really in trouble now.**


	15. Chapter 15

Bellamy didn't know what had come over Clarke, but something definitely different. She'd been like a little ray of sunshine from the minute he'd gotten home, chattering nonstop about spending the day with her god-dad, conversations she'd had with the car salesmen, and how she'd worn a scarf to camouflage the fact she wasn't wearing a bra.

Thank God for that because the thought of men looking at her breasts bouncing beneath the form-fitting red sweater made his chest constrict and his teeth grind. Shouldn't matter. Wasn't like he had a claim to her. But he still didn't like it. That's why he'd remedied the situation before heading to Mom's for dinner.

Once there, and everyone had gotten seated, Clarke didn't let up. She'd talked about squirrels she'd seen during her walk. The fresh air, vivid fall leaves, and the friendliness of everyone she'd met so far. Cases in point, dress shop owner, Maya, who'd opened Clarke an account with no red tape, and Pascal, the car salesman pointing out how the color of the vehicle matched her eyes.

Pascal sounded a little too friendly, but hey, the guy had a sales quota, and Marcus had been here to make sure this Pascal guy didn't see a pretty girl and try and oversell her a shitty lemon. Something Clarke clearly didn't care about which led him to believe other than her family, she craved attention. At least from relationships. Further proof of that was the so-called boyfriend, Finn, still MIA. That might have something to do with Bellamy agreeing to everything Marcus had asked of him. Trips to the hospital—reading to her—the one-sided conversations, and then the biggie—taking her home. Yeah, her not having anyone she knew had pulled at his heartstrings. Hell, who was he kidding? The moment he'd pulled her from the car, and she'd asked about the deer, he'd been in her hold.

Yeah, he'd created the problem, and if he continued, it might keep her from recovery. Didn't want to prolong that because the more he was with her, the more he liked her. Even the short time it took fastening her bra got to him. The vision of her leaning forward to let those soft mounds fill the lace cups had his heart thundering.

Come to think of it, she'd been different then, too. No flirting or teasing. No sign of seduction. Apparently, she intended to keep her promise by behaving. Still, it didn't take much for Bellamy's imagination to run wild with lustful thoughts. Twice today, he'd lost his concentration, her naked body popping into his head. Not a good thing. Especially when he'd been in the middle of restoring power.

Lina tugged on his pants leg. "Uncle Bell-me, I need one more person for a game. Will you play?"

He squatted to get to her level. "Sure, baby, what are we playing?"

"What am I? You know. You put a picture on your head and try to guess what it is from clues."

"Okay."

She grabbed his hand and led him to the living room where Marcus and Roan sat. Bellamy smiled. Lina must like male attention too since she'd chosen an all dude panel. He glanced back toward the kitchen where Mom still zipped around, and Clarke had Raven at the dining table in deep conversation.

* * *

Even though Clarke had only spent a short time with Bellamy's friend, Raven, she'd connected with her. Maybe that had to do with their relationship before the accident. He had said everyone in his family liked Clarke, and that took off a lot of the pressure. She didn't have to worry about first impressions. She'd passed those tests long ago, but since finding the ring, she'd wanted to discuss it with someone, and Raven fit the bill.

For a minute, Clarke watched the game going on the in the living room, then she turned to her new friend. "Bellamy is so good with Lina. He'll make a great father."

"Yeah. Someday."

The tone of Raven's voice sounded as if the idea was not in his immediate future. But if he'd been planning to propose, surely, he'd thought about having kids. Even discussed it with his family, and Raven was as close to an honorary Blake as anyone could be. Only one way to find out.

"For the last few hours, I've been thinking about why Bellamy isn't very affectionate," Clarke said.

That got Raven's attention. She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head. "How so?"

"I've been focused on the amnesia as my problem, but it's really just as much his. Memories are what binds us together. The things we share. Experiences we have. Private moments and secret jokes. Hopes. Dreams. And once the person we share those with can no longer remember any of them, everything changes. Even though I love him, because I can't remember any of our past, it's like I've not been a part of it. I'm like a ghost. I'm here. But I'm not.

"I mean, he can see me. Talk to me. But there isn't any common ground to tie us together, and because of that, whatever future with me he had planned, he put on hold. Does that make sense?"

Raven gave her brows a quick lift. "Actually, it does. If Roan couldn't remember us dating, or the two jobs I worked while he was in law school, or the birth of Lina, or any of our life together, I guess our connection would be lost." She reached across the table and took Clarke's hand. "I'm sorry. I know this is hard on you. But you and Marcus are getting reacquainted. That might help you recall your history."

"Not so far, but I am getting more comfortable around him. He's so kind and thoughtful, and he doesn't push me. He and Bellamy are a lot alike. The next time he comes to visit, I asked him to bring pictures. Maybe that will spark something." Clarke raised her hand and widened her eyes. "Oh! I remembered something else. Turns out, I was engaged once, and the girl cheated on me. Apparently, she and my maid of honor had been carrying on for months behind my back. I don't know which is worse. Having my fiancé or my friend lie to me. Thank God, Bellamy would never do that."

Raven coughed, then cleared her throat.

Aurora came to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat next to her surrogate daughter. "Clarke, I'm off next week, so if you get tired of staying by yourself, come here. For the first few days, I'll be working on recipes for the pie contest I enter each year. Then on Wednesday, I'll prepare for Thanksgiving. I've invited your godfather and the rest of your family to spend Turkey Day with us, and they agreed. Maybe having them all together at once will be familiar."

Loud laughter spilled from the living room, and Clarke turned attention there. Lina did a happy dance. Clearly, she was winning. Then Clarke faced Aurora again. "I'd love to help with your recipes. I'm not sure how good of a pie maker I am, but I'd like to find out."

Bellamy's mother rose and scooted her chair back in place. "I'd love for you to help. Octavia will be here too, so that will give you a chance to get to know her better."

Clarke cupped her mouth and leaned forward. "Bellamy isn't too thrilled about her interest in Lincoln."

Aurora put her hand on her hip. "How well I know, but that son of mine needs to lighten up a bit. He tends to make things much more serious than they are." She turned to go, then stopped. "I get up early, so come anytime."

Clarke eyed Raven. "I like your mom. Even if Bellamy doesn't want her dating my godfather, I'm happy they are. Is that a bad thing?"

"What do you mean?"

"That I'm not on Bellamy's side."

Raven chuckled. "No law says you have to agree with everything he thinks. Believe me, he can be a real pain in the ass. Like Aurora said, he needs to not be so serious all the time."

Clarke moved her chair closer. "Can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"I've got to get my memory back because when I do, Bellamy is going to propose."

Raven sucked in a quick breath and strangled on it. She coughed again, then sputtered. "Sorry. What makes you say that?"

"I found the ring. I wasn't snooping. I was looking for a notepad in his desk, and there it was. Had he said anything to you about it?"

She shook her head. "No. Not a word."

* * *

Across the room, Raven choked on something for the second time and got Bellamy's attention. Odd. She wasn't eating or drinking anything, so it must have been something Clarke said. For the last fifteen minutes, they'd had their heads together, which made him nervous. So far, his family had done a great job avoiding any information that might send up a red flag. Plus, it helped that the doctor had suggested Clarke not pick people's brains and just let nature take its course.

But his bed partner was sharp, and one slip of the tongue would bring on a slew of questions he didn't want to answer. At least not until the two weeks were up. At that time, he'd come clean because he didn't want her leaving Arkadia believing he was her boyfriend. Carrying a lie around twenty-four-seven weighed him down, and he had his limits.

Even if she didn't remember, she deserved the truth. And he hated lying to her. Damn, she looked so beautiful. Wide-eyed and animated as she spoke. Whatever story she had going must be important because Raven leaned close as if she didn't want to miss a word.

The two of them had fallen into an easy friendship, and Bellamy liked that. He didn't want Clarke to be miserable. He felt bad enough leaving her alone all day and even though he'd not been too happy about Mom dating Marcus, at least his visit gave Clarke something to do while Bellamy worked.

Minutes later, Raven brought Lina's sweater and helped her into it, then she leaned close to Bellamy and spoke out of the side of her mouth. "Call me when you get a chance."

The way she raised her brows and tightened her lips made him uneasy. Oh hell. He recognized the expression. The one she'd used to warn him of impending punishment from his mother when he was a kid. His heart kicked up a notch. Whatever it was, couldn't be good.

* * *

On the way home, Clarke continued her babble, but Bellamy had a hard time concentrating on anything she said for worrying about what Raven had told him.

"Your mom invited my family for Thanksgiving. Are you alright with that? I mean, you already don't like Marcus or Lincoln, and they'll both be here."

The sound of her cousin's name snapped Bellamy from his worry. "What?"

"Thanksgiving. At your mom's. Marcus and Lincoln."

"Not crazy about the idea, but can't dictate who she invites."

Clarke sighed, then lowered her shoulders. "I just want everyone to get along."

Bellamy glanced over at her. Big mistake. The moon gave off just enough light to cast her in silhouette, reminding him in a short time, he'd be helping her undress, and the thought made the blood race through his veins. "I promise I won't cause any trouble."

"Good, because I love your mother and don't want anything to ruin her day." Clarke lay her hand on Bellamy's thigh. "I love everyone in your family."

Damn. One little touch from her and his cock twitched. If she moved her hand north, he wouldn't stop her. He was so damn horny he'd let her have her way with him right there in the truck. Drawing a stuttering breath, he scolded himself. Had to stop thinking about her naked. A diversion. That's what he needed. A subject that had nothing to do with temptation. Sports. Yeah. He hated sports, and there was nothing sexy about rough competition.

"What were you and Raven talking about? Seemed serious."

Clarke reclaimed her hand and raked some loose strands of hair behind her ear. A clear sign of discomfort, which concerned Bellamy even more.

"Oh, I was just telling her about my previous engagement."

The way she said the last word sounded funny, but the subject made sense so perhaps he had no reason for alarm. Raven did tend to dramatize things, especially when she was pregnant, so she probably overreacted to something Clarke said.

She clasped her hands together, suddenly shy. "We also discussed what a great dad you'll be."

Holy shit. He swallowed hard. "How'd that come up?"

"You're so good with Lina." Clarke faced him. "You do want children, right?"

Uneasy about where this conversation was headed, he shifted in his seat. "Well—sure—someday."

He'd never thought much about that until Roma aborted his child. He'd grieved the loss, and out of everything she had done, it was the one thing that kept him from forgiving her for so long. The child had been part of him, and while he had no rights to decide how any woman used her body, she'd treated it as an inconvenience.

He wheeled into his drive, raised the garage door, and pulled in next to Clarke's new car.

Clarke released her seat belt. "I should have known the answer to that question. I mean, I guess we've discussed children, or have we?"

He swallowed. Not exactly the trajectory course he'd intended for tonight. "No, not really."

"Well, I want kids. At least three. You?"

Shit. Why was she talking about this? Had she taken for granted they'd discussed marriage and family? Then it hit him. Apparently, she and "the real boyfriend" had. "There's lots to consider when you have kids. Who knows, the first one could be a real terror, and you might not want anymore." Bellamy closed the garage door, then climbed from the truck, and looked back at her. "Why don't you go in and start a bath. During the game with Lina, I missed a call from Miller, and need to call him back."

She frowned, but dropped it. For now. "Okay."

He waited until she disappeared, and although he was dying to speak to Raven, Miller actually had texted about their morning workout, so he replied to the message, then dialed Raven.

"What do you need to tell me?"

"You've got a big problem. Clarke found the engagement ring and thinks it's for her."

* * *

Now Bellamy understood why Clarke had quizzed him about having kids. She'd found Roma's engagement ring and planned out their life together! He should be upset, but no need for that. Her misconception about his impending proposal was no worse than him pretending to be her boyfriend. After what Raven had told him, Clarke didn't expect anything to happen until she regained her memory, and once she did, he wouldn't have to explain a thing.

Well, she'd probably want to know what he was doing with a diamond ring hidden in his desk—or not. If he was right, she'd be so upset about the scheme, she wouldn't be speaking to him.

Bellamy inhaled a deep breath of cold, crisp air, pocketed his phone, and went inside. Let the torture begin. Time to help her get naked. Sports. Yeah. Het needed to concentrate on sports, and other things he hated, like the word Moist, and the never-ending opening credits to Netflix shows.

He tapped on the bathroom door.

"Come in."

He eased it open. She sat on the commode lid, working to remove her boots.

"Here, let me help you with that."

Kneeling before her, he made short work of the job.

She stood, and unzipped her pants.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband and inched them down.

Basketball. NBA playoffs. Figuring out the brackets. He pictured a player dribbling down the court, but damn if the image of the ball didn't make him think about her round, creamy, soft breasts. Shit.

Shifting gears, his mind went to the Super Bowl, but a vision of the quarterback having the ball snapped from between the center's legs brought Bellamy right back to how close his face was to Clarke's crotch. Damn.

He rose to his full height and blew out a silent breath. Once her sweater came off, the powder blue lace bra got his full attention. God, she had beautiful tits. Snap out of it! Hockey. Yeah. Nothing about that should elicit lust. Burly, semi-toothless men padded from top to bottom, fighting and swinging sticks at a puck…which rhymed with fuck, which is exactly what he wanted to do to her. Sonovabitch.

"Are you okay?"

Her voice jolted him back to reality. "Uh…what?"

"You have a funny look. You feel okay? Stomach acting up again? Maybe it was the meatloaf."

He swallowed, and grumbled, "I'm fine. Turn around and let me unhook your bra."

Once he unhooked the eyelets, she grabbed a towel and held it in front of her, then faced him again. "It's undressing me, isn't it? That's what has you upset."

He shook his head. "I want to help you, but this isn't easy for me. Seeing you naked, and wanting to—never mind. Like it or not. I'll do it. Won't be long until your cast comes off."

"You know you can touch me without us having sex. I wish you would." She peered up at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

Bellamy ran his hand over his face and the thought of parting Clarke's thighs, the sounds she'd made when he finally pushed her over the edge came unbidden. "Don't say that. It just makes it harder for me to keep my promise."

"To who?"

Holy shit. This is what happened when dick brain did all the thinking. Even though he'd decided to confess everything, it wasn't the right time. "Uh. To your doctors. Remember?"

"Look, it takes me a while, but I can do all this for myself except my bra. From now on, I'll get you to do that first, then you can leave. Just reach under my shirt and unhook it. You won't even have to see me half-naked. Okay?"

"I appreciate it." He backed away and turned to leave. Granted, it's what he wanted, what he should want.

"Bellamy?"

"Yeah?"

"I like that you want me."

He leaned his head against the door. "You have no idea."

She ran her hand up his back. "Yes, I do because I want you so much I ache all over."

And just like that, Bellamy got hard. She might think she understood, but she didn't have a clue. If she knew how long it'd been, she'd watch her tongue. Those few words unraveled his self-control until it hung by a thread and a thin one at that.

God, he couldn't remember ever wanting someone so much and here she stood, naked, willing, and eager. The perfect cocktail for disaster. He could take her, but he wouldn't. Couldn't. Because soon enough, she'd leave, and he'd be left with regret.

He didn't dare face her. If he did, he'd come undone. Those eyes. The mole above her lip. Pouty lips. Ripping off his fingernails wouldn't be more agonizing. "If I touch you, I won't be able to stop. Let's just get through the next few days, and then we'll have all the sex you want." Not a total lie. What he needed to say was let's get to the part where I tell you I'm not your boyfriend, and if you still want me, then I'm your guy. "If you don't need me for anything else, I'm going to bed."

Within a few minutes, Clarke crawled in next to him. Still, in chatty mode, she turned to face him. "I don't think I told you, but I'm going to help your mom with her pie baking. According to Raven, your mom likes using crazy combinations like grapes and pickles, apples and avocados, bananas and beer. That got me to thinking. What if we incorporate one of those into the crust instead of putting it in the filling? Has she tried that?"

Clarke giving this much thought to helping Mom was so damn cute, he wanted to hug her. Even Raven considered his Mom's dedication a waste of time. And Octavia, well, she didn't care one way or the other. Bellamy hated to admit he'd also been indifferent.

"That's a good idea. I don't believe she has. You're sweet to want to help."

"You think I'm sweet?"

She was so close, her warm breath floated across his cheek. He opened his eyes. Shouldn't have. Because in the dim light, she looked so—seductive. He stroked a finger over her temple, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "No doubt about it."

Her breath caught, and she shifted to get her body closer, then ran her hand over his chest. "Kiss me. I know you want to, so just do it. There's no need for us to suffer. I promise I won't let you go too far."

"God help me." He took her mouth. Slow. Soft. And when he pulled back, he traced her lips with his tongue. "You taste sweet, too." One wasn't enough. Hell, who was he kidding, a thousand wouldn't be. He went back for more, this time, rougher, deeper.

She eased her leg over his and snugged her body in tight against it.

Trailing his hand to her breast, he let the weight of it rest in his palm, then rubbed his thumb over the stiff nipple. Yeah, she was on board with whatever he wanted, and he wanted it all. He abandoned her mouth, brushed his lips down her throat, then lower and sucked the peaked nipple through the fabric of her nightshirt.

Threading her fingers through his hair, she held him in place. "Oh, God, that feels good."

He glided his hand down her belly to the waist of her pajamas, then hesitated. "Stop me, Clarke."

"No," she breathed, all breathy and wrecked. "I don't want to stop. Not now. Not ever."

This was going too far. He needed to stop, but she'd pressed her face into the spot just above his clavicle, moaning his name against his skin, which was on fire. To hell with it. He inched his hand lower, and then as if the Almighty himself zapped divine intervention, Bellamy's phone chimed.

"Don't answer it," she panted against his neck, and damn if Bellamy didn't want to ignore it, but couldn't.

"I can't. I'm on call." When he shifted away from her, she groaned. He turned on the lamp. Pressed the cell to his ear. "Blake—okay. Thirty-minutes." With a deep sigh, he clicked off and climbed out of bed. "Sorry. I have to go. There's an outage in Polis."

She sat up and propped a pillow behind her back. "How long will you be?"

He dressed while he talked. "Don't know. Will you be alright by yourself? If not, I can drop you off at Mom's."

She groaned. "I have a car."

"I know, but you probably shouldn't drive until you have both hands working."

"In a town this size, I think I'll be okay. Between here and your mom's, I'll be lucky if I meet two cars."

"Good point. But if you go, be careful, and text me."

Clarke sighed and flopped back on the bed. "Does this happen a lot? I mean, you getting called out after you've worked all day?"

"More during the winter months. I may even work in another state."

She bolted upright. "Another state? For how long?"

"Sometimes, weeks."

Heaving a deep breath, she stared at the ceiling. "Maybe we should get a dog."

Bellamy jerked his head toward her. "What?"

"If I'm going to be here by my lonesome, maybe we should get a dog."

Holy shit. Yeah, that's all he needed. Get attached to a pet, then when Clarke left, she'd take the furball, and Bellamy would have two things to miss. That's why he had a fish. No emotional attachment. Feed it. Watch it swim, and if it died, get another one. Cold hearted? Maybe. But he'd suffered enough loss.

She wasn't giving up. "Can we? I'm sure Polis has a shelter. We could adopt one. Might be good practice for children later on."

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Kids—pets. What the hell? Next, he'd be buying her feminine products along with his moms and sisters. "We'll talk about it later."

"Okay. But we should get a male. Of course, we'll have him neutered. I like the name Jack. Ooh, no, Rebel. I love that name. What do you think?"

I should just kill myself now.

"I mean, you already have a fenced back yard, so he has a place to play, and since I have to walk every day, I could take him with me."

Bellamy gathered his wallet and keys while she continued to make plans, and damn if she didn't look so fucking adorable he wanted to forget about work and crawl back into bed—and her. Yeah. Deep into her. Listen to those soft moans she'd been making minutes ago. Feel her fingernails dig into his skin, urging him on. He rubbed the back of his neck. What he really needed was waiting in Polis. Work. The only thing that might be able to keep his attention off her.

"I've never had a dog."

Bellamy snapped his head around to face her. "You remember that?"

She put her hand to her mouth, widened her eyes, and bounced on her knees. "Yes!"

Her breasts bobbed with the movement. A wet circle on her pajama top where his mouth had been just minutes earlier. Her expression, like a kid on Christmas morning, got him every time. She looked so innocent. So sweet. So fucking fuckable. Fuck.

"Even if it's just little things, I'm remembering more and more. So, about the dog. I don't want a big one. Just mid-size. What do you think?"

He couldn't help but laugh. Sounded like she was still car shopping. "I think we need to talk about it when I have more time."

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

She scooted to the edge of the bed, then stood and put her arms around his waist. Sticking her hand in the back pocket of his jeans, she squeezed. "I love your ass."

He swallowed hard. He never knew what would come out of her mouth. One minute she's talking dogs, and the next, body parts. According to what Bellamy had learned from her family, this was new behavior for Clarke. On the one hand, he loved that she was so open about wanting him, but on the other, her candor made it difficult for him to resist.

But if her cousin found out Bellamy had been feeling her up, Lincoln would tear him apart, limb by limb. No worries. A little touchy-feely was no big deal. Bellamy just needed to make sure it didn't happen again. "You're making it hard for me to leave."

She slid her hand from his pocket, around to his crotch, and rubbed. "Yes, I am, in more ways than one."

Already the beginning of another hard-on, he stepped back. "You're the devil. You know that, right?"

She giggled. "Maybe so, but not a very good one, because I'm having a hell of a time leading you to the dark side."

"Babe, if not for the phone call, I'd be drowning in pitch black."

Moving closer, she rose to her toes, then kissed him. "You called me babe."

"I did?"

"Yeah. It's the first time you've used a term of endearment. I like it."

Bellamy didn't know what to say. He'd not realized he'd said it, and he didn't know why he had. He'd never used pet names, but it fit her. "I really have to go." He stepped into the hallway, and she followed.

He stopped. "No need for you to stay up."

"I'm wide awake. I think I'll search the internet for dogs."

Bellamy tilted his head and scrunched up his face. "Clarke…"

"I know you haven't agreed to get one. I just thought I'd look. No harm in that. Right?" She looked at him, eyes wide, and his heart stopped. Resisting her, he'd come to learn, was futile.

"Right," he grumbled.

She stayed on his heels all the way to the garage, and when he opened the door, a surprise waited—snow. Bellamy stared dumbfounded at his front yard. Snow. In the south. In Alabama, where the first sign of melting snow flurries was enough to send everyone in a panic and clean out entire aisles of grocery stores.

"Oh!" Squealing, Clarke rushed to the edge of the drive, stretched out her arms, turned in a circle, and stuck out her tongue to catch the flakes.

Bellamy's chest swelled. He'd never seen a more beautiful sight. His next day off, he'd take her to the shelter.

How about that premiere?! I was reading on faceook and apparently people found it boring? I loved every minute of it and how we've come full circle to where Clarke and Co. are the grounders and these new guys are taking their original place as space invaders.

ANYWAY, hope you guys enjoyed the episode as much as I did, and this chapter. Also there's another piece of corresponding fanart to this chapter on my tumblr. daenerystormboern dot tumblr dot com / tagged / bellarke.

Thank you for all the comments, I love reading each one of them.


	16. Chapter 16

Finn had some decisions to make. As much as he loved fucking Bree, she was becoming a bit too clingy. Probably time for him to do one of his disappearing acts. Women in love were so gullible. They wanted to believe whatever lies men spouted. And all men did. Even if it was as innocent as telling a woman her ass didn't look big in a pair of jeans—still a lie. Just as he'd done with Clarke, he could claim an out of town business trip, and Bree or any woman would take him at his word.

Of course, he'd been careful. None of the babes he'd bedded knew about his condo in Midtown, and they wouldn't. His sanctuary. Downtown and uptown views from every room. Private entrance. Twenty-four-hour security. Hell, he'd even used one of his many aliases to buy the place. It was amazing what money could do. Fake identities came easily with the right people in place. Besides, after the scandal of his father's trial, Finn couldn't afford to keep his name. Well, not his last name. Sometimes he had to think to keep everything straight.

George Harrison owned the condo. Jonathan Lennon signed the lease on his apartment. Paul McCartney owned a private island in Dubai, and Rich Starkey recently opened an offshore account. He chuckled. Nobody could claim he didn't have a sense of humor.

So far, everything was in place, but luck would eventually run out. Dad had taught him that, along with how to swindle people. The more money people had, the greedier they got. Sure, they gave a lot of it away, hell, that's how he'd gotten much of what he had. Helping starving children in third world countries loosened purse strings quicker than anything.

Clarke's discovery had thrown a kink in his plans. Of course she had to go through his things and catch him with Bree. He'd had a strict timeline, and until she left town it had all been in place, but once that happened, adjustments had to be made. Sometimes when he'd had too much to drink, a twinge of guilt niggled at him. Clarke was innocent, but then again, Finn's mother hadn't known about his father's sins, yet she suffered until she couldn't. Once he turned eighteen, Mom figured he could take care of his sister. She'd said so in the suicide note.

No, innocent or not, Jake Griffin and Marcus Kane had sent Finn's father to prison and indirectly caused his mother's death. Clarke's father was dead, but the lawyer deserved the same kind of pain. Besides, it wasn't like Clarke was ever going to be a significant contributor to society. She couldn't keep a job or a boyfriend, and her only ambitions were writing stupid songs. Yeah, the world would never miss her. But Kane would, and Finn knew all too well how it felt to lose the people he loved most in the world. Everything he'd done in life was to get to the point he could make that happen.

Well, he couldn't wait much longer. As soon as Thanksgiving was over, he'd make a trip to that town and bring her back home.

* * *

If there was one thing Lincoln didn't need, it was spending more time with Octavia. Why Marcus accepted the Thanksgiving invitation, he didn't know. Well, he did know. The old man had the hots for Octavia's mother. Couldn't fault him for that because when it came to the Blake women, men seemed to lose their good sense. Guess it didn't matter in Marcus's case. His 50 to her 44 meant nothing because—well because it was 50 and 44. Both ages, plenty mature. Too bad it didn't work that way in Lincoln's case. If Octavia were only a couple years older, the five-year separation wouldn't be a concern. But she wasn't, and nothing could change that. Had to accept she was off-limits. And he had. He'd vowed not to return to Arkadia, and here he was, ready to go back.

Lincoln could decline, and he should, but he'd always spent the holidays with Clarke and her family. Marcus had always been kind to him, always treated him like family and he always had a seat ready for him on holidays. Maybe that's what brought this on. He was trying to reclaim the atmosphere from when his family had been complete, before Callie Cartwig-Kane perished in Delphi. No doubt the situation with Clarke reminded him how quickly life changes, and if he wanted to be with her during the festivities, Arkadia was the only place that could happen.

No, Lincoln couldn't refuse. He'd just suck it up and get on with it. Hell, he'd make it a day trip. Drive that morning, eat lunch, then back to Atlanta. In that short time, nothing could happen. He'd see her what—a couple of hours? And, there would be plenty of people around to keep him from doing something stupid. Yeah, it'd be a safe environment, so no worries.

He pushed back from his desk, stretched out his legs, and stared at the computer screen. Sixteen new listings yesterday. Couldn't complain in that department. Business was the best it had ever been. If the growth kept up, he would have to hire another agent. Success was a double edged sword. On the one hand, growth was what he worked for, but on the other, more employees meant more headaches. As long as he and Wells could handle the workload, Lincoln didn't want to bring someone else on board.

The office door flew open with more force than necessary, and Wells stormed in. "You're not going to believe this."

"What? The couple didn't like the condo? I thought it was just what they were looking for. Let me guess. She didn't like the cabinet hardware."

Wells waved him off. "No, no, she liked all of it, they want to make an offer. That's not what I'm talking about."

"Then what?"

"I saw Finn with another woman. The fucker is fucking around on Clarke. I should fuck him up." Gritting his teeth, Wells fisted his hands and sliced the air with an uppercut.

Lincoln sat up straight. "Maybe she was a client. Just because he was with a woman doesn't prove anything."

He had never seen mild-mannered Wells so livid. "Oh yeah? Well, his tongue down her throat and his hand on her ass does."

"You're shitting me."

"Hell no," Wells paced the area in front of his desk. "Looked like she'd spent the night at his apartment. He was leaving, and she was giving him a send-off."

Lincoln rubbed his jaw, his head spinning. "I'm surprised you didn't confront him." Wells was always the good one, smart, and completely kind to everyone. Lincoln knew his history with Clarke - they'd been friends since the two of them were in diapers. Like Lincoln, he loved Clarke like a sister.

"Thought about it, but the area is too populated, so I followed him all the way to University Park. He must have been meeting a client. Went into a private entrance at 805 Peachtree. Look it up and see who lives there."

Lincoln clicked his keyboard a few times, then leaned closer to the screen. "George Harrison. Ever heard of him?"

"No, but that doesn't mean anything."

Wells plopped down into a chair. "What should we do?"

"For now, let's keep it to ourselves. At the moment, it won't matter to Clarke since she doesn't remember him."

He tapped his chin. "You think this other woman is why she left town?"

Lincoln shouldered back in his chair and rubbed his neck. Something wasn't right. Finn had blamed his long hours as the reason for her leaving. If they'd broken up, why not just say so? "I'm not sure, but since he never insisted on going to Arkadia to visit Clarke, then having another woman seems feasible. Marcus thought all along Finn hasn't shown enough concern."

"Yeah, I should definitely fuck him up." If he didn't share Wells' anger at Finn cheating on Clarke, he'd find him comical.

"Cut it out. You're not to lay a hand on him. Understand? There are other ways of getting even. For all we know, his job was the reason she left, and she broke up with him before getting the hell out of Dodge. If that's the case, no harm, no foul."

"And how do you intend to find out? Clarke's brain is a blank canvas, and if he is screwing around, we sure as hell can't ask him and expect a confession."

Wells sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"How'd the woman look?"

Wells dipped his head and widened his eyes. "Like a watered-down version of Clarke, in leopard print."

"Okay, then maybe we should find a way to meet her and strike up a conversation."

He grinned. "I like the way you think."

* * *

For the next few days, because of the snow that refused to fully melt, Bellamy had worked long hours, and Clarke barely saw him. Well, she watched him sleep, and Lord knew she liked doing that. His strong jaw and curly brown locks were enough to make her heart kick up, but add the stubble he'd grown made her knees weak. She especially liked his scattered look when he wasn't working and would wear glasses. He was the sexiest man she'd ever seen—and he belonged to her. Even planned to propose. She still marveled at that. Not that she was unworthy of a hot guy, she just got the feeling men weren't really drawn to her—or maybe they were. She didn't remember. But it wouldn't be long until she did because every day her past was coming back.

Just yesterday, she'd recalled dropping out of college. Her first girlfriend, when she realized maybe Glass was more than just a best friend. The entire story of her broken engagement, and bits and pieces of her life that didn't amount to much. Bad haircuts. Crappy prom date. And the first boy who'd put his hand on her boob. Eighth-grade dance. She remembered it did nothing for her. No hot rush. No tingling. Nada.

Boy, had times changed. With just a glance from Bellamy, every inch of her body caught fire. The problem was she couldn't get him to put it out. But come Friday, things would be different. Her cast came off, and the ten days no sex rule would end. Hallelujah! If he thought she'd been aggressive in the past, he was in for a big surprise.

The last couple of days her fantasies had been in overdrive. She'd seduced him in every room and made love on every surface. Kitchen counter. Back porch. Shower. Truck. Floor. Even against the washing machine during a spin cycle. She couldn't help but wonder if she was always like this.

"Hey."

She has been so caught up in mentally doing him, she'd not heard Bellamy come into the kitchen with a heavy worn book tucked under his arm. "Good morning." God, he looked so good with his hair in every direction and glasses perched precariously on his nose, her mouth watered, or maybe the reaction was left over from just having him on the piano bench. She'd mentally straddled him, his arms braced on the keys, playing a few notes with each thrust. Baby Jesus in the manger.

"Were you about to leave?"

She nodded. "I was going over to your mom's, but I'll wait until you go to work."

He scratched the back of his head, a little shy as he sat down at the table, flipping open the dog eared copy of The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. She had to smile. Raven was right, he was such a nerd.

"I'm off today."

"Really?"

He smiled, his eyes scanning the page. "Yeah. Thought we might do something. Go see a movie or just stay here and watch Netflix. It's still cold out. I could build a fire. But since I don't have a sofa, might be better at a theater."

She leaned against the counter watching him get lost in the pages. Briefly, she wondered if this was how he sat at her bedside while she was in a coma, reading some of her more raunchy books aloud while she lay there.

Clarke looked past him, to the living room just beyond the kitchen. There wasn't anything in way of furniture to make the place look lived in, but the three massive bookshelves that lined the walls strained with the weight of books. "Why don't we buy a couch and then see a movie? Are you up for that?"

He put his fingers to his temples as if the idea hurt, and she regretted the question. With the way he'd been working, of course, he didn't want to look at furniture. Hell, most men never wanted to shop, especially for home décor. "I'm sorry. You should spend your day off doing something you like. Forget I said anything."

"No, that's okay." He pushed his glasses up his nose, finally looking up at her. "Uhmmm. What day is it?"

"Wednesday. Tomorrow's Thanksgiving."

"Oh. We should go to Polis. My housekeeper comes this afternoon."

Clarke stepped to the coffeemaker. "I didn't know you had one."

"Thought I'd mentioned it. She comes every other week. We'd probably be in her way." He looked marginally ashamed. "I usually tidy up after myself," he told her, as if he wanted her to know he wasn't a slob.

"Okay. I didn't know when you'd get up, so I didn't make coffee, but I will."

"Don't bother. We'll get something on the way. And I'll swing by Mom's to let her know you're not coming today." He returned his attention to his book. She bit her lip, wondering. She crossed the expanse of the kitchen in two easy steps and saddled herself next to him, nudging him with her elbow.

"You read to me while I was in the hospital," she said as matter-of-factly.

His head shot up, eyebrows raised into his hairline, as if her proclamation surprised him. Clearly, he didn't know that she knew that.

"Uh, yeah." He smiled sheepishly, as if he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Marcus tell you that?"

"No," she grinned, pecking him on the cheek. "I could hear you at times. Sometimes you sat there talking to me, other times you read aloud."

If possible, his eyebrows raised even higher, as if all the time he wasn't aware that every time he talked to her while she lay there unmoving, every time he read to her, she was listening all the while. Maybe it was stupid to think it was his voice that brought her back to the surface, but then again, maybe it wasn't. He kept her tethered.

"Oh," he simply said, and she wanted to know what was going through his head at that exact moment. The edge of her lips tugged upward, wondering if he was replaying all the times he'd read her smutty scenes from her books to her. The blush creeping over his freckles told her that her calculations were correct.

He cleared his throat, taking her hand and interlocking their fingers. "You ready?"

She stared down at his long fingers tangled up in hers. "Uh-huh."

He zeroed in on the two cherry-size bumps beneath her sweater. "Uhm." He looked skyward, his cheeks tinging an adorable shade of red again. "Do you need to change?"

She crossed her hands over her breasts. "Oh. Sorry. With you gone so much, I've gotten used to going without one."

His nostrils flared with the breath he drew.

"I'll go put one on, then you can hook it for me."

She headed down the hall, and he called after her.

"Oh, if we have time after shopping and the movie, we'll go to the animal shelter."

She turned, rushed back down the hall, and flew into his arms. Clarke pressed her lips to his, and he didn't stop her. Instead, he tangled one hand into her hair and used the other to pull her closer, biting down meanly on her lip. Maybe he was also counting the hours until the no sex decree ended. She sure hoped so, because she had big plans.

* * *

It didn't take Bellamy long to decide on a sofa. Brown. Leather. Straight arms. Square legs. Clarke had not been excited about the choice, but he figured he couldn't go wrong with something basic. And the chance at getting a dog probably kept her from voicing too much opposition.

After arranging for the furniture delivery, he'd taken her to a small pizza place, and later let her choose the movie. A chick flick. No surprise there. Growing up, anytime he took part in movie night, Mom and Octavia always out voted him when Raven wasn't present. Some of those sappy romances he'd seen so many times, he had dialogue memorized.

Like every other female in his life, Clarke had cried, sighed, and swooned at all the cheesy parts. Couldn't fault her for that. He liked a happy ending as much as she did, but couldn't help but wonder if the cards held an HEA for her—and him.

Shaking the thought from his brain, he turned his attention to the shelter worker giving Clarke his best sales pitch.

"You can tell by the floppy ears, he's part hound. Maybe coon or basset. No way to know for sure."

While she stroked the mutt's head, he'd buried his nose against her chest like he belonged there. Bellamy knew the feeling. That particular spot felt like—heaven.

She blinked her big eyes at him and tried not to look like she had her heart set on the animal, but Bellamy knew better. "What do you think?"

Probably shouldn't let her know what a pushover he was. "You've only been down half the rows. Maybe you ought to see all they have to offer before you decide."

Still trying to close the deal, the worker chimed in, "I don't want to pressure you, but if this dog isn't adopted by the end of the week—well, a decision will have to be made."

Clarke gasped and clutched the floppy-eared baby tighter. "Oh, no. You don't mean…"

Bellamy almost laughed. Well known among locals, Polis Shelter had a no-kill policy. If a dog couldn't be placed in a certain amount of time, they were shipped out to New York. For some crazy reason, the Big Apple suffered a pet shortage.

The guy must have seen Bellamy's bullshit radar because he moved to the next point.

"Did I mention he's already house broken?"

Clarke faced Bellamy again. "Did you hear that? We won't even have to train him?"

The amazement in her eyes took him right back to the night he'd rescued her, and how she'd been more concerned about an animal than her own welfare. He'd never met a girl more kind-hearted. Bellamy reached out to scratch the puppy's ears, and the mongrel growled. Damn. The thing had already bonded with her.

"No, no, Rebel. Bellamy is your daddy, you can't growl at him."

Well, that did it. Within the span of a few minutes, Bellamy became a father, and the baby was already giving him attitude.

Rebel lifted his head and planted a long lick to her chin as if to make sure she still liked him. Bellamy knew first hand she did, and damn if he didn't want to lick a few of her parts himself. Start with her lips and work his way down. Maybe having a dog that wouldn't let Bellamy touch her was just what he needed to keep his distance.

She shoved the pup toward Bellamy. "Take him. If he doesn't warm up to you, then I'll keep looking. He'll be your dog, too, so he needs to be compatible with both of us."

Even though Bellamy knew she wanted the pet, her offer reinforced his belief. Sweetest girl on the planet.

The puppy whined at the separation. Bellamy cradled him and rubbed his head. "Hey, boy. You want to come live in Arkadia?"

* * *

The next morning, after Bellamy dressed for work, he released the new pet from his crate, let him out into the backyard to do his business, then led him down the hallway, and put him in bed with Clarke. The mutt snuggled against her and sighed as if that's what he'd been waiting for. Clarke barely stirred.

After the outing to Polis, and playing with her furry sidekick, she'd been fighting off yawns. Bellamy had to remind himself a few weeks ago, she'd been in a coma, and wasn't fully healed. Lying in bed for so long took a toll, and getting her strength back would take a while.

Because he didn't have a set lunch hour, he'd promised to text once he got his work orders and let her know when he'd be able to get to this mothers for the big meal. Mom had arranged holiday gatherings around his schedule and hers, so it was nothing new for her. The invited white collar group might see it as an inconvenience, but Bellamy didn't care about that. His goal was to make it through the event without tempers flaring, and that might not be easy, but he'd promised Clarke.

One subject sure to come up was the two-week deadline on Monday. For the last two days, he'd thought about returning to life without her, and as much as he wanted to end the deception, he didn't want her to leave for several reasons. First, he hated the thought of sending her back to Atlanta while she still had no recollection of her life there—or her family. Second, he didn't want the so-called boyfriend anywhere near her. That jerk, whoever he was, apparently didn't give a shit about her, and she deserved better. Lastly, and this was the big one, Bellamy had feelings for her. She lit up his world. Closed wounds he'd let fester. Released emotions guarded for so long he'd forgotten how good it felt to have a woman he could trust. He'd not had to take antacids in days, but the thought of coming home to an empty house, made his stomach burn.

By the time he got to the gym, Miller had already worked up a sweat, jumping rope. He stopped and glanced at the wall clock. "Hey man, running a little late, aren't you? Your roommate didn't have you tied up, did she?"

"Very funny. Actually, she was still sound asleep. We got a dog, and she played with him until midnight."

Miller ran a towel over his face, then his lips curled. "That's not good."

"What? Getting a puppy?"

"Nah. The we in that sentence. Sounds like you may extend the contract."

Bellamy stretched while he talked. "I won't lie. I've already gotten used to her. I've gone home to an empty house for so long, I thought having someone there would drive me nuts, but it hasn't. Well—most of the time."

Miller stepped on the nearest treadmill, turned it on, and ran a steady pace. "I gotta hand to you, man. You've slept with her and keep your hands to yourself. Especially after what you told me about her coming on to you."

Bellamy climbed onto the machine next to Miller's and matched his stride. No need to confess he hadn't exactly resisted, but he'd not gone past second base—by much. Had it not been for the call, hell, he would have hit a homerun. "That's why I can't let her stay. I've resisted for about as long as I can, and she's a constant temptation."

Bellamy and Miller's phones sounded at the same time. Bellamy glanced at the text and looked over at his friend. "Well, looks like we're getting part of Thanksgiving off."

Miller dropped his cell back into the cup holder and shot Bellamy a look. "I've never been to New Jersey. You?"

"Nope, but looks like the storm they had is going to furnish us a reason to go."

* * *

At just past noon, having finished the job, Bellamy clocked out right behind his work partner and headed toward his mom's house. In his text to her, he'd not mentioned having the afternoon off or leaving town the next morning. No need for that. He'd have lunch, leave as if going back to work, but instead, he'd use the time to pack and get ready for his early departure. It'd be easier without Clarke there.

The Jersey assignment solved one problem. No need for Clarke to leave town. According to his boss, it looked like the storm cleanup would last at least a week, and that would give her more time to get her brain in order. Not to mention postponing his confession. A stay of execution of sorts—because once she found out, she'd want to kill him. It didn't matter that his feelings for her were quickly becoming real. She had a boyfriend, who, despite being an obvious asshole, she chose him.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he parked on the street, then strode to the front porch. From the backyard, Lina giggled and a dog barked. Rebel. He didn't know why Clarke chose the name. The mutt looked about as far from maverick as you could get. If it fit or not, didn't matter, he was just thankful she'd not wanted a silly name. He recalled being vaguely humiliated whenever he had to search the neighborhood for Octavia's cat as a kid, calling out Kitty Kitty Coochie. No doubt the neighbors had a laugh at his expense, thanks to O's unfortunate ideas of acceptable names for felines at age five.

He opened the gate and stepped inside the fence. Lina and a little boy about her age, Bellamy didn't recognize played chase with the pup. "Hey, Lina! How do you like Clarke's dog?"

She ran full speed toward Bellamy. He lifted her in the air and spun around. She held out her arms as if flying. "I love him! Daddy said I might get a puppy. I asked Clarke to go with me to pick it out because she did a good job with Rebel. Put me down and watch what he'll do."

Bellamy set her feet back on the ground." Who's your friend?"

"Oh. She motioned for the kid to come closer. "This is Kai. He's Wellses and Loona's son," she lisped. "He's only four." She held up the corresponding fingers for emphasis.

Bellamy held out his palm. "Nice to meet you, Kai."

The kid slapped a high five, then ran back to the dog.

Lina yelled to Clarke. "Throw it again!"

She tossed a yellow tennis ball in the air and Rebel ran to retrieve it, scooped it into his mouth, then returned to her.

"See, Uncle Bell! He already knows how to fetch. We just taught him that. Next, I'm going to teach him to roll over!"

Her excitement cracked him up. He walked to join Clarke on the porch. She had another scarf around her neck, which meant she probably didn't have on a bra. He sucked in a deep breath. Damn, he'd like to warm his hands under her sweater. Feel the soft skin waiting there.

She slid her arm around his waist and leaned into him. "Thank you again for Rebel. He's a good watchdog. When we got here today, he growled at everyone until I scolded him. I think he might have bitten Lincoln and Wells, but once I called him down, he behaved."

The thought of the canine's teeth clamped around Lincoln's leg made Bellamy smile. Man's best friend was a good judge of character.

The back door opened and Octavia stuck out her head. "Lunch is ready. Y'all come on."

Mom had the food spread out on the bar buffet style, and once everyone served themselves and got seated, Lina said grace. Bellamy considered how happy Mom looked. Maybe he'd been wrong about her dating Marcus. Hell, maybe he'd been wrong about Octavia, too. About himself. He'd sure thought Clarke living with him would be torture, and it was in a way, but now leaving her for a week made him more miserable.

She lay her head on his shoulder and without thinking, he picked up her hand and kissed it, then realized what he'd done when every eye at the table zeroed in on him. Holy shit. Their expressions said it all. Mom and Marcus, amusement. Confusion from Luna. Roan and Octavia, surprise. Raven just rolled her eyes like she was So Done™ with the two of them. But the worst of the bunch, Lincoln, and Wells—anger. Those two looked as if they were ready to take him apart. He took a gulp of tea.

Mom's voice broke the tension. "Clarke has been helping me with my pie recipes. She's come up with ideas I've never considered."

Evidently fearing a brawl, all the women spoke at once.

"Like what?"

"Tell us more."

"I tried one and loved it."

"Well." Mom cupped her mouth and softened her tone. "Clarke incorporated a new ingredient into the crust, and not only does it add color, but it's also delicious! We can't reveal the details just yet, but I'm so excited, I can hardly wait for the competition! She's a genius!"

Clarke ducked her head, and Bellamy slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a half-hug. "Thank you for helping Mom."

Clarke beamed up at him, and everyone went silent.

After the moment had passed, conversation picked up again, and the meal ended without incident. Quite an achievement for this group of conspirators. Regardless of what Lincoln and Bellamy thought of each other, they were bonded by the scheme, and for some crazy reason, that comforted Bellamy. Kind of like when he was a kid and claimed immunity from punishment because all of his friends had committed the same crime. Safety in numbers…or was it misery loves company?

* * *

By the time Clarke got home, Bellamy had packed and loaded his luggage in his truck. He planned to wait until later to break the news because he didn't want to spend the whole evening with her sad. He'd taken the time to make some notes of what needed to be done while he was gone. Feed Alpheus. Remember trash pick-up on Thursday. Names and numbers of a plumber, electrician, exterminator, and the cable company. He tried to cover all the bases in case something went wrong. He'd also brought in wood and posted a note about remembering to the open the damper if she decided to use the fireplace. He'd made sure the outside faucets were secure for the hard freeze predicted in the ten-day forecast. If he had forgotten something, she could always call Raven or Aurora.

Marcus planned to go home on Sunday, so Clarke would basically be on her own, and that made Bellamy nervous. Not that she wasn't capable of handling things, he just liked the idea of having her god-dad nearby in case she needed him.

Bellamy's primary concern was she'd regain her memory while he was gone, leave town, and never speak to him again. He prayed that didn't happen. When he got back, he'd come clean about everything. She was already comfortable around Marcus, so returning home to Atlanta, even though she didn't remember him, wouldn't be so bad.

Sticking to his regular routine, Bellamy went to bed at nine but didn't go to sleep. He still had to tell Clarke about his plans, so he lay awake until she crawled in next to him an hour later. As soon as she got settled, he flopped to his back and stared into the dim light.

"Can we talk a minute?" He'd already told his Mom and Raven earlier he was leaving, and asked the latter to check up on Clarke if she had the time. Now that her cast was getting taken off in a couple days, she'd be fully functional, but he still worried about her. She could take care of herself, but he felt better knowing someone would look after her while he was gone.

She shifted to face him and laid her palm on his chest. "Sure."

The tone of her voice told him she expected the worst, particularly at this hour, when he'd usually already be asleep. "I got a call out to another state. I'm leaving in the morning for New Jersey."

She said nothing for a few seconds, then said, "For how long?"

"At least a week. Maybe longer. We never know. Depends on how many other companies respond."

"Is that why you agreed to Rebel? You knew you were leaving?"

"No. Didn't find out until this morning. I waited to tell you because I didn't want to ruin Thanksgiving."

She lifted her head and pressed her lips to his. And he kissed her back. A simple, sweet kiss, and then it was over. Clarke pulled back and searched his eyes. "I'll miss you. I worry about you when you're gone."

His brows furrowed and he shook his head. "I'll miss you, too. Miller will be with me. Nothing to worry about." He smoothed worry lines from her forehead and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. How it seemed only days ago he was trying to get rid of her, now he never wanted her to leave. If he could keep her there, in this moment and in his bed forever, he would. He tugged her closer, trailing his fingers up and down her spine.

She bit meanly at his lip as her her hand trailed south. When she reached the waistband of his boxers, she slipped her fingers inside and circled his cock.

He groaned against her mouth. The little minx. "Clarke, you shouldn't…"

Her lips swallowed his protest, then she broke the kiss and whispered against his mouth. "Shh. While you're gone, I want to make sure you remember what you have waiting at home."

She retook his mouth and damn her hand felt so good, he couldn't make himself stop her. It had been a while since he'd had a woman's hand in his pants, and the way she was working his balls and cock at the same time, she wouldn't be there long because he was already on the brink.

She hooked her leg over his thigh, pressed her body in close and thrust against him with the same rhythm as she stroked him. He flexed his fingers and gripped her thighs, softly sliding his hands up to her hips, before edging down to cup her ass, shifting her leg higher until it rested over his own hip. His fingers brushed ever so slightly against the seam of her panties and he grunted against her mouth.

Clarke's mouth crushed his as she panted, "Bellamy."

Calculating his movements, his fingers made contact again, exerting more pressure. She exhaled harshly and bit down on his bottom lip, shaking with need. He grinned against her mouth as his thumb stuttered over the hard nub through her panties. Her pelvis shifted down against his hand and whimpered against his ear, enough to send him nearly over the edge.

He wanted to hold back longer, keep her soft fingers wrapped around him forever, but that wasn't happening. Not in this lifetime.

He moaned. Grunted. Stiffened. Exploded.

* * *

 **Lincoln and Wells are on the case!**

 **Boom chicka wow wow. This is probably by far the most slow burn-est story I've ever written. I love to torture.**

 **How did you guys like ep2? I didn't mind it, but I'd rather have spacekru or Clarke.**


	17. Chapter 17

**WARNING** : Mature themes ahead. If you don't wanna read that, tread lightly toward end of chapter.

* * *

The next morning, to reinforce what she'd told Bellamy the night before, Clarke woke him with another hand job, and he didn't argue. Just because she couldn't have sex didn't mean he should be deprived of pleasure. And if he wanted to admit it or not, her blood pressure had probably risen during the love tug just as much as if they'd done the deed. But for his conscience to be clear, she'd abided by the rules. By the time he got back home, she'd be free of the cast and restrictions.

She rolled over. Rebel sat by the bed waiting for his invitation. She patted the area next to her, and he jumped next to her and licked her cheek.

"Good morning, boy. Starting today, it's just you and me. You ready to go for a walk?"

The dog's tail wagged so hard his whole body shook.

"I guess that's a yes." Clarke glanced at the empty pillow and sighed. Just knowing she'd not see Bellamy for a whole week made her sad. Well, she'd see him on Facetime, and that was better than nothing. She scooted to the edge of the mattress, slipped her feet into her house shoes, and made her way to the bathroom.

Staring into the mirror, she finger combed her hair. No time for gloom and doom. That wouldn't change anything. If she stayed busy, time would fly. A few ideas had been bouncing around in her head for days, and with Bellamy gone, this gave her the opportunity to put them into action.

Even though she had a job waiting in Atlanta, until she remembered her life there, she saw no reason to return. Dr. Mbege had said there was a small possibility she'd never regain her memory. Either way, she couldn't put her life on hold where a job was concerned. Bellamy was kind enough to let her live with him for now, but she couldn't expect him to make this permanent, unless he did plan to propose. He might have changed his mind about marrying her.

No, she couldn't continue to let him support her. That wasn't fair. If he insisted she remained his roommate, she needed to contribute. A few days ago, she'd gone into the spare room and found the stacks of boxes. When she'd asked his mother about them, she'd explained how Bellamy had never bothered to unpack after moving into the house. Until Clarke found employment, she could take that responsibility—if Bellamy agreed.

Add to the list, laundry, cooking, grocery shopping. She could do all those things and give him more free time. He worked hard and sharing duties would make their relationship stronger. So far, he'd done all the giving, and she'd done all the taking. It might be okay while she recuperated, but once her cast came off, she needed to pick up the slack.

After she got dressed, she went to the kitchen and found a note with a list of things she needed to take care of and at the bottom of the page, a suggestion to call someone to get help lacing her walking shoes. Yeah, she was definitely too needy. But after a quick text to Bellamy, she did just that, and Marcus was thrilled to hear from her. Within an hour, he sat before her.

He tied her first shoe and moved to the next one, then looked up. "So, are you going to be alright alone?"

"It's just for a week, and I have Rebel for protection."

Marcus glanced over at the dog who lay sprawled at the back door looking out into the yard. "Not sure how ferocious he is."

"Are you kidding? Did you hear him growl at Lincoln and Wells yesterday?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure it would have gone any further. If Lincoln had growled back, Rebel would have probably turned tail and ran."

Clarke giggled. "If Lincoln growled at me, I would, too. He's very—imposing."

"Yeah. Don't know where that came from. Once you get past that rough exterior, he has a good heart. So, what do you have planned for today?"

"As soon as I hear back from Bellamy, I'm going to unpack about a gazillion boxes he's left untouched for almost two years."

* * *

Lincoln had planned to leave Arkadia right after Thanksgiving lunch but decided he needed to let Octavia know he couldn't see her anymore. Wouldn't be right to go without an explanation. She deserved to know he didn't plan to come back. Ever. He'd even talked Wells into taking his place at the auction as Luna didn't mind. Best for everyone concerned.

Lincoln swung his car in next to Octavia's and paused to get his thoughts together before facing her. The park was a safe rendezvous point. With so many people around, the only location he resisted touching her. Today, he'd end it. Whatever it was. In his mind, the only word that fit—forbidden. At least from his perspective.

As he approached, she looked his way, and her face lit up like a child with a new toy. He slid onto the table top leaving space between them and rested his feet on the bench. She scooted closer, and he moved away. No need to prolong the agony.

He wrung his hands together, suddenly nervous. "We're done, Octavia. I'm going back to Atlanta and not coming back."

Her shoulders slumped, and she placed fingers to the pendant resting against her windpipe. "Don't say that."

"I've given it a lot of thought. Hell, it's all I think about, and the only way I'm going to stop is to not see you again."

"You've—we've not done anything wrong. There's no need for you do this."

He took a deep breath, bowed his head and shook it, then clasped his hands together. "See, that's just it. I want to do something wrong. Lots of things. And if I continue to spend time with you, at some point, I'm not going to resist. Just like the kissing. That shouldn't have happened, but I couldn't stop myself. You're a constant temptation."

She folded her arms below her breasts.

The thought of those kept him awake at night fantasizing about putting his hands and mouth on them. "I can't deal with it anymore."

"I understand, but you're the only who thinks it's a problem. I want to sleep with you."

He ran his hand over his face. "God Almighty. Have you even had sex before?"

"No, but that doesn't mean I don't want to. I've just never found the right guy—until you. That's what this is all about. You want to make love with me, right?"

He narrowed his eyes. Thinned his lips.

Her chin quivered. "Why are you being so mean?"

"See, this is what I'm trying to make you understand. You have this fantasy about you and me and a picket fence. All of it. You're a high school girl. Dammit, Octavia. Not that long ago, the kisses and the things I've said to you would make me a pedophile. I can't get past that. You say you understand, but you don't have a clue. Every filthy thought I have about you makes me feel dirty, as it should."

"No, it shouldn't. I'm of legal age to make my own decisions. If you don't want to see me anymore, be a man and just say so. But don't use some lame excuse about me being too young." She uncrossed her arms, drew a breath, and fisted her hands. "You knew how old I was when we met. If that was a problem, then why pursue me? Or, was this all to get even with Bellamy? You didn't like that Clarke was with him, so you wanted to inflict payback. Is that it?"

He started to speak, but she held up her hand. "Well, congratulations. You succeeded because I'm in love with you."

"What? No! We haven't even dated. You're in lust. Not love. And you're right. I take full responsibility. I should have never spent time with you. It was wrong, and that's on me, and I'm sorry."

She stood but didn't move. "So, you're saying you feel nothing for me but desire."

He didn't know how to answer that question. Lie or tell the truth? Either way didn't make a difference, he needed to move on.

Octavia poked him in the chest with her finger. "Answer the question! Do you feel anything at all for me? Or have I misread everything."

She said the last part as if she already had her answer. That he'd been playing her all along and she'd meant nothing. No way he'd let her believe that. "That's just it. I do feel something. More than I should. But like I said. The timing is wrong for us. I think it always will be. That's why I'm ending it."

She stepped closer, put her hand on his chest, and gazed into his eyes. "Go back to Atlanta. Take some time. What do I care? With each day you take, I get a day older. If my age is your only hang-up, give me a number."

"What do you mean?"

She fiddled with his collar. Smoothed her hand down his shirt. "How old do I have to be for you? Nineteen? Twenty?"

He didn't know where she was headed with this game, but it wouldn't end until he answered her. "Haven't thought about it."

She circled a button with her finger. "Yes, you have."

Hell, she knew him too well, and for her age, he had to admit, she was pretty damn mature. Not a lot of women would call him out. "Twenty for sure. Maybe nineteen. At least you wouldn't be in high school anymore."

She grinned. Licked her lips, then caught the bottom one between her teeth. "Well, in six months, I'll be nineteen, but I won't be in high school anymore, so here's the deal. You go back to the city, and I'll see you in June." She stuck out her hand. He couldn't help but to smile, just a little.

"And what if you or I become involved with someone else during that time?"

"Then the deals off." She raised her brows and grinned. "But we won't."

In his heart, he knew that to be true. At least for him. Since meeting Octavia, he'd not thought of another woman. Didn't want to. If he were honest with himself, that picket fence entered his thoughts more times than he'd cared to admit. "You're pretty damn sure of yourself."

"I told you from the beginning. I'm the girl of your dreams. All you have to do is accept that, and everything else will fall into place. I know you think I'm silly, but I am in love with you. I knew the day we sat at the hospital snack bar you were the one. That will never change."

He clasped her hand, and damn if he didn't want to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. But instead, he shook on the deal, then watched her walk to her car without looking back. She got in, drove away, and he marveled at how she'd turned his plan around on him—again.

* * *

It took all day Saturday and Sunday for Clarke to empty the boxes. Working with one hand made for slow progress, but she'd managed. She'd even broken the containers down, stacked them into a neat pile, and sacked all the packing paper into trash bags.

Bellamy had tried to talk her out of it, but she'd convinced him by saying she needed something to fill her time. That conversation had happened on Friday, and other than a quick text to say he was too busy to Facetime, she'd not heard from him. She had to admit she was a little disappointed, but she'd seen him come home from work exhausted, and imagined that the storms up north were tenfold to his usual work.

According to her weather app, New Jersey, Delaware, and parts of Pennsylvania, were still getting snow. Clarke shivered at the thought of Bellamy working in such conditions. Especially at the top of a pole. She shook her head. Odd to have no recollection of such a dangerous job. This brain business was weird. No problem remembering she didn't like pudding, but not an inkling as to the grave danger Bellamy faced. Well, Dr. Mbege had warned her not to question her recovery or try to force memories. Stress would only make it worse.

She called Rebel to the laundry room, closed the door, then debated about how much to feed Alpheus. For the last couple of days, she'd dropped in five or six flakes, wrinkling her nose at the concentrated tuna smell, but each time she got near the little swimmer, he came to the top as if begging for more. She stared into the glass, and the goldfish swam to gaze back at her. He wasn't very big, so he probably didn't eat a lot. But clearly, he was hungry. She opened the lid, pinched a few flakes, then dropped them into the water. Alpheus zipped to the surface and gobbled them in a flash. Yeah, she'd not been feeding him enough. She sprinkled a smidgen more. He gulped them down and swam a few laps as if thanking her.

Grabbing her car keys, she stepped into the garage and lifted the door. Outside, a soft rain fell, overwhelming her with the smell of wet grass and the expanse of untouched land before her. High in the trees, ravens cawed. One of them landed just beyond the driveway. The patter of rain hitting the roof made her yawn. Something she surely wouldn't find in Atlanta, no constant buzzing of cars and neighbors through paper thin walls.

She hoped by the time she got to the hospital, the shower ended. But if not, she'd need an umbrella. Thankfully, she'd unpacked one yesterday and knew exactly where to find it. Wonder how Bellamy had made it all this time without one? Silly. He worked in the worst of conditions. Probably didn't consider it necessary.

By the time she arrived at Arkadia Memorial Clinic, the rain had stopped, but the sky still swirled with dark clouds, the light flash of lightning in the distance, drawing near. She tucked the umbrella under her arm, slung purse straps over her shoulder and made her way inside. First stop would be radiology for an x-ray. The results would determine if the cast came off. She hoped it did. If not, then her job plans would go out the window.

When the technician finished, she guided Clarke to the doctor's waiting area. After she signed in, then turned her attention to the magazines on the coffee table. They looked well worn, but she shuffled through them and found an article that caught her eye. Long Distance Sex: How to Make It Work.

Within a few minutes, the office door opened, and Raven emerged.

"Hey, Clarke."

Clarke closed the magazine and swallowed hard. "Oh, hi Raven."

She cocked her head. "Are you okay? You look a little flushed."

Clarke flapped her hand as if swatting a fly. "Probably from rushing to get here."

"Today's the day, right?"

Her heart slammed against her ribs. "Ugh? Oh. Yeah. My cast. Why are you here?"

Raven patted her stomach. "Check-up day. Lina came two weeks early. I hope it's a pattern."

"So, that would mean—"

"Any day."

"Oh. Well, how are you feeling?"

"Like I'm about to go into labor."

Clarke jumped up. "Do you need to sit? Can I get you anything?"

Raven laughed. "No. I'm okay. I just have this dull backache which is exactly how it started before. Have you heard from Bell?"

"Just a short text on Friday to let me know he got there. I hope he calls tonight."

"Well, I better go. In case I'm right and go into labor in the next few hours, I need to make a trip to the grocery store."

"If there is anything I can do to help you, let me know. Do you have someone to take care of Lina? I'll be happy to do carpool for you."

"Thank you, but since Aurora's off this rotation, I have that covered. But I might need your help after the baby comes."

Clarke smiled. "I'd love that. I haven't been around a baby since Luna had Kai." Clarke's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my God! I remember that!"

Raven patted her shoulder. "That's wonderful! Maybe having your family here at Thanksgiving helped. I've got to run now, but I'll see you later."

Clarke slumped down onto the chair again and thought about her nephew's birth. She remembered holding him. Feeding him. Changing him. Memories with Wells and Luna flooded her mind. Christmas dinners. Birthday parties. How their house looked and what kind of cars they drove. She massaged her temples as if she might squeeze out more of her past, but nothing came. How was it she remembered them but stopped short of other family members?

She shook the thought away, grabbed the magazine again, and stuffed it into her purse.

Nyko poked his head from the office doorway. "Your x-ray looks good, so a nurse will be here shortly to take you to an exam room. As soon as she removes your cast, I'll be in. Okay?"

She nodded, feeling jubilant.

"Everything all right?"

"Yeah, I just remembered another puzzle piece from my past. I'm a little shaken."

He moved to her and dropped into the next chair. "Something bad?"

"No. Good actually. The birth of my nephew, and after that a lot more about Wells and Luna, but no one else. I know you and Dr. Mbege explained everything. But it still confuses me when I remember some things and not a hint of others. It's like a door opens, then slams before everything gets in."

"I know it's frustrating, but this is good. Means your brain is healing. It may be a slow go, but just hang in there."

"I'll try to be more patient," she lied. No way the doctor could understand fully how disconcerting her life was, that she was a stranger in it, from the outside looking in.

* * *

An hour later, Clarke's fingers tingled from gripping the steering wheel. Without the weight of the cast and having use of her hand again felt weird. She headed down Main Street and parked in front of the Arkadia Bulletin. The weekly newspaper came out on Thursdays, and she wanted to make sure her ad made the deadline. Although she'd not asked Bellamy's permission to offer piano lessons at his house, she figured he wouldn't object. She'd schedule students around his work hours.

Because school was still in session, three students a day would be all she could handle until summer vacation. For now, she'd start with piano, but later, if things went well, she'd consider adding other things.

Once she finished paying for her classified, she walked to The Bunker. She'd not been inside the bar, but from the street, it looked nice. Pushing open the door, a bell jingled. She doubted the tinkle did much good at night. But since it was barely past noon, other than two older men sitting at a corner table, and a thirty-something couple at the end of the bar, the place was empty.

The bartender, a tall, muscular, guy with salt and pepper hair, looked to be in his early fifties. He stopped putting beer into a refrigerated case and turned to look at Clarke.

"Afternoon, Miss." He glanced past her as if expecting someone, then focused on her again. "What can I get you?"

Clarke took a deep breath. If she'd ever made a face to face pitch to a future employer, she didn't remember it. "Hi. I'm Clarke Griffin, and I wanted to talk to you about performing here. I noticed your sign out front says you feature bands on weekends, and you have a karaoke night."

He moved closer and rested his arms on the polished counter. "I'm Gustus. You have a band?"

She hiked one hip onto a stool, propped her foot on the rung. "No. I perform solo. I'm willing to do it for tips. Maybe just one night a week."

He pulled his brows together. "You think tip money will be enough?"

"My goal is exposure to get other paying gigs. You know. Weddings, birthday parties, rehearsal dinners. It might even help your business. I don't know if you rent your facility out for private parties, but if someone wanted to hire me, then I could pitch the bar as a venue—if you wanted."

He looked her up and down, then settled on her face again. "What type music? Anything posted online I could see?"

Clarke relaxed a little. At least he didn't brush her off. Now all she had to do was close the deal. She gave him her best smile. "I don't. But I see you have a piano so I could play a couple of things for you. Almost all of my songs are original."

He cocked his head. Pursed his lips. Nodded. "Okay. Let's have a listen."

Once seated on the bench, she ran her fingertips over the keys. Other than the few notes she'd played at Bellamy's, she couldn't recall the last time she'd played, but figured it was like riding a bike.

Gustus scooted a chair closer, spun it around and straddled it. "Any time you're ready."

"Well, I should warn you. Apparently, I've had some bad breakups, so my songs are a bit on the…"

"Sad side?"

"No. More on the I'll-write-a-song-to-get-even-with-you side."

Gustus chuckled. "Okay, Taylor Swift. I'm anxious to hear them."

"This first one is called, "You Can't Emoji Your Way Out of This."

When Clarke finished, Gustus' face had turned red from laughter. "That's kind of cute. Got another one?"

"Depending on how risqué you'll allow me to be, here's one I call, "There Was Nothing Between Us But Your Penis."

Gustus threw his head back, and belly laughed, and she launched into song. This time when she ended the number, he laughed harder. "Girl, you may be just what this place needs. I'll try you for a couple of weeks and see how it goes. If you're the hit I think you'll be, we'll work out a salary. What night you interested in?"

Clarke slid to the end of the bench and hugged him. "Thank you!" Then she backed away. "Oh, sorry. I'm just excited."

He grinned. "Me, too. You're original. I like that. So, what night?"

"I've actually given this some thought. I designed and printed small posters, just in case it worked out." She pulled them from her bag and passed them. "I thought Thursdays would be good."

Gustus eyed the papers, then handed them back to her. "Sounds good. I'll get you some tape, and you can display the announcement in the window. You can also put one at the Trading Post. I own it, too."

Later that day, as Clarke returned home from her daily walk, her mood couldn't be better. Even without a complete past, she couldn't imagine a life more perfect. Her cast was off. Memories were trickling in. The job market had opened up. And she had the greatest guy. Speaking of which, she was tired of waiting for Bellamy to call.

After removing Rebel's leash, she watched him head towards the water bowl while she dropped in a few flakes for the fish. Once done, she headed down the hallway for a bath. Finally, she no longer had to bathe with one hand hanging out of the tub, and tomorrow, she'd be able to put on her own bra! Never considered that'd be something she'd look forward to.

Grabbing the stolen magazine from her purse, she sank deep into the water. Since it was more than two months out of date and on the verge of falling apart, she doubted they'd miss the publication.

Rebel settled on the rug, sighed, and rolled his eyes up at her.

Maybe Clarke should get a male's point of view. "It says here, men like, in this order, for the woman to initiate sex, have oral sex, and third, anal sex." She stopped. "Next on the list is dirty talk. Not sure I can pull that off, but I can try. What do you think?"

The dog didn't move.

"Oh, so you don't have an opinion? You're no help. According to this, guys also like foreplay. I believe that because Bellamy loved the hand jobs. Even told me so and afterward made out with me."

Rebel closed his eyes.

"Yeah, see that's what I'm talking about. I need to be bold and unpredictable to keep things exciting." She closed the magazine, laid it next to Rebel, and thought about her new singing gig.

She ran her song catalog through her head. Earlier, she'd remembered the history of some of those songs. Cheating. Bad breakups. Well, those days were over, and the silly rhymes were just that. No longer did her heartbreak when she sang them. The subjects of those verses were just a bunch of jerks that had led her to where she was now. Happy and in love. Soon to be engaged. And as soon as Bellamy got back home, she was going to screw his brains out. No more restrictions. No reason for him to resist her advances.

Just the thought of him made her hot. She stepped out of the tub, wrapped a towel around her body and climbed onto the bed bringing her phone with her. Already after nine o'clock. Where had the day gone? She launched the Facetime app and dialed Bellamy's number.

When he answered, she held up her arm. "Look. I got my cast off today!"

"Oh, hey. That's good news. Are you doing okay?"

Sleepy eyed, she realized she'd woke him. "I'm sorry. Were you asleep?"

"Time change. It's a little later here, but that's okay."

"I won't keep you. I just miss you so much, and you haven't called…"

"Yeah. I'm sorry about that. Been working sixteen hour days and by the time I grab a shower, I'm ready to pass out."

"Your room looks nice. What I can see of it."

He sat up and propped pillows behind his back. "It's not a five-star hotel, but it's decent, and they give out of state workers a discount. Miller and I split the cost, so it works out pretty good."

"Where is he?" She asked curiously, eager to get him alone, even if it was through a screen.

"In the bar, probably."

She shifted in bed, the towel slid lower on her breast, and she didn't stop it. Bellamy's eyes widened with interest.

Maybe she wasn't with him, but she could make him wish she were. "I can't wait until you get home. Now that there are no bedroom restrictions, I've got plenty of things I want to do to you."

He took a deep breath. "Don't say that. You'll get me…"

"What? Hard?" She winked and shifted around, spreading her legs and placing the phone between them, propped against the edge of a history tome she lifted from his bookcase.

The thin towel barely covered her.

He gritted his teeth as if being tortured. "Yeah. It makes me think of what you did to me before I left and that will definitely cause a reaction."

"You mean the hand jobs? If I was there, I'd do more than that." She gave the towel a little tug, and it fell to her waist. "A lot more."

"Dammit, Clarke. You're killing me," he rasped out as she shuffled closer to the screen.

"Maybe I should tell you."

"Not a good idea."

"So, you don't want to hear how much I love your body. Or how bad I want to taste you?"

His breathing shuddered. "Jesus."

She smiled triumphantly. "Are you hard now?"

"Yes."

"Let me see."

"No!"

"Please."

He blew out a breath, lifted the sheet, and she got a good look at his tented boxers. She licked her lips. "Pull down your underwear."

"Why are you doing this?"

Her heart hammered with panic. His pained expression said this had been a mistake. The last thing she wanted was to turn him off. She'd been a fool and just wanted to end it and pretend this call had never happened. "I'm sorry. I thought you might like phone sex, but I'll stop. Talk to you later."

"Don't hang up! I do like it." He swallowed soundly and bit his lower lip, leaning back and angling the camera so she was in clear sight of him. He hooked his thumb in the elastic and tugged until his cock popped free.

"Are you sure because I don't want you to do anything you are not into."

"I'm not."

He looked so wrecked, she couldn't resist.

"Good because I love looking at your cock. Now, touch yourself."

"Clarke," he whispered gruffly.

"So, you've never self-served?"

"Didn't say that. Just never with an audience."

Her fingers caressed her breasts, but her hazy mind couldn't help imagining his hands on her body, his hands finding exactly where she needed to be touched and leaving her gasping with need. She cupped her breast, pinched the nipple, and moaned. "Are you sure? Because seeing you with a hard-on makes me wet. I'll touch myself, too." She ran her hand down her belly then between her legs. "Come on. Please?" She moved against her hand. "Oh God, that feels good. I can't wait for you to do this." She was trying to find a good pace, a rhythm. Talking slowly, but not too slowly, her voice sexy and low - that wasn't hard, because, well, she was watching him watch her.

"Fuck." He circled his erection and went to work.

"I wish I could touch you right now... I would go down inside those cute boxer briefs to cup your balls. I'd spend just a minute or two rolling them in my fingers, just because I love that feeling, but then I would shift my hand up where I really want to be, right at the base of your cock."

He groaned, breathing harshly as his head fell back against his pillow. She worried her lip between her teeth, the edges of her lips quirked in a smile.

"I would keep my thumb and forefinger curled snug around you, and let my pinky slide up the underside of your shaft, right to that little indentation before the head, right there, and then back down. And then, because there's just no time to mess around tonight, I would reach back down with my left hand to cradle your balls again, and use my right hand to to grip your cock."

Her voice was husky to her own ears. "I'd use my tongue to run up the entire length of the underside of your cock from the base to the tip."

Bellamy groaned on the other end of the phone, gasping for air.

She took deep breaths, her chest heaving with the effort as she lost her place. "I wish you were inside me. It's all I think about." Her next words came on breathy sighs. "Say something."

"Can't. Not what I'm thinking."

"I want you to. Tell me."

"Dammit, Clarke." He hesitated a moment, seemingly at war with himself. "Let go of the towel. Open your legs for me," he gulped and she grinned, cupping her breasts as she leaned back, widening her legs to his view. He sucked in a shallow breath as his eyes zeroed in on her glistening thighs.

"Already so wet, babe. You're enjoying this aren't you, Clarke? God, I wish was there to taste you."

His voice was soft and wrecked. Clarke whimpered at the thought of his head between her legs as her cunt clenched. Another wave of arousal gathered at her opening. Bellamy's hand tightened the hold on himself, leisurely moving up and down. Her own hand slid down her body and two fingers immediately found her clit.

"Ah, ah," he chastised as he noticed her hand. "Did I tell you that you could touch yourself?" She stopped and hesitantly withdrew, her thighs clenching.

"Good girl. Open yourself up for me, use your fingers and coat them in your wetness."

Clarke quickly scrambled to follow his instructions. She had no idea where this side of Bellamy suddenly appeared from, but she was excited to learn, or relearn, something about him. She used both her hands to spread herself open, gathering some of her wetness on her fingers as her chest rose and fell with heavy pants.

"Suck your fingers clean," he ordered. "I want you to taste yourself like I would taste you."

His voice was hoarse, his cock twitching in his hands as Clarke eagerly cleaned off her fingers, loudly making exaggerated sucking sounds while moaning.

"Sweet girl," he mewled. "Now fuck yourself with your fingers, but do not touch your clit. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," she sighed, her voice high and breathy. Closer to a moan.

A loud moan of relief escaped her and she slowly pumped her fingers in and out, making sure not to touch the throbbing little bundle of nerves.

His eyes had darkened considerably as he watched her carefully, speeding up his own hand. She felt fearless in that moment, wild and untamed. Any lingering worry she had about Bellamy not wanting her had diminished completely.

"You're so beautiful, Clarke. I want to bury deep inside you and make you come harder than you ever have."

Her hips canted upwards.

"Fuck, Clarke," he groaned.

"Yes. Fuck Clarke, that's the idea." She just moved faster at his voice, the sounds growing louder. "I need to come, Bellamy. Please," she whined and moved even faster, her back arching at the sensations.

"Come for me," he rasped out. He squeezed himself as hard as he could, thrusting his cock into his hand. Clarke bit her lip and worked her fingers in tight circles against her clit. She threw her head back. Gasped for air. Her muscles clenched as she came hard and fast, her free hand clutching the bedsheets.

He whispered her name as if it was a prayer. It was all he could do before he erupted like a volcano.

* * *

 **Hopefully that wasn't too cringey bc I am still newish to writing smuttyness.**

 **HOW ABOUT THAT EPISODE?! The last couple of minutes were everything I wanted. My soul left my body yall.**


	18. Chapter 18

After Clarke ended the call, and Bellamy cleaned himself up, he had no trouble falling asleep but woke again when Miller came into the room. Bellamy didn't bother talking, just rolled over and pretended to be sleeping. But the truth was, both of his brains went right back to the phone sex. That escapade only made him want her more, and that was a problem. It took every ounce of restraint to fight the feelings he had for her, and if she continued the hand jobs and dirty talk, he'd lose the battle. Damn, if tonight's conversation had taken place in person, he would have already waved a white flag.

In a way, he had surrendered. He'd done everything she'd asked—twice. Because once he discovered it had been a first-time thing for her, too, that made all the difference. Bad enough she'd confused him with her real boyfriend, but Bellamy damn sure didn't want the things she did and said to come from that relationship. He'd only had four sex partners, and none had ever praised his cock, so when Clarke said that, he'd lost it. Big time.

Talk about a triple threat. With the sex ban listed, he had a horny woman just waiting for him at home. His cock was already quivering in anticipation.

The next day, during the thirty minutes Bellamy took for lunch, he climbed inside his truck and called Nyko. One question kept niggling at Bellamy, and he needed an answer before he returned to Arkadia, which according to the workload, would be Friday, unless, the weather turned worse.

"Hey, man. I'm not an uncle yet, am I?"

"Not yet, but close. Raven is putting up a good front, but Roan told me she's having pains. She tossed and turned all night, so I expect something to happen before the days over. How are things there? You going to stay longer?"

"No. Looks like we'll finish up Friday. I should be home on Saturday. I called to check on Raven, but I also have a question."

"Okay. Shoot."

"It's about Clarke." Bellamy hesitated. He didn't know how much he wanted to tell him. He was a family friend, but he was also one of Clarke's doctors. Come clean and confess his feelings, or play it cool and act as if he just wanted general information. "When she gets her memory back, will she remember everything that's happened with me? Or will she think that all happened with the other guy? Does that make sense?"

Nyko laughed. "Sorry. I don't mean to make light of this. I should have explained it better. She may have you confused with her boyfriend, but she knows you're you. She's only forgotten situations before the accident. The new memories she makes, she'll retain. Pie baking with your mother. Thanksgiving. How she got the dog. Understand?"

"Yeah—I guess. But…"

"Oh, wait. Is this about sex?"

"Damn, Nyko. I knew this would be hard, but not this much."

"So, are you? Having sex with her?"

He wondered briefly if this breached the confines of doctor/patient confidentiality.

"No, but she's all over me, all the time." Bellamy drew a deep breath. "I can't. I feel like…" God, he hated thinking it but saying it aloud made it worse. "Like I'd be taking advantage of her."

"Oh, hell no! Bro, you can't think like that."

"I know. But, I'm not who she thinks I am, so if I do it, then—fuck, it's all so complicated. My greatest fear is she'll get her memory back in the middle of it and realize I'm not her boyfriend. Having sex with her under that pretense…" He scrubbed his hand over his face. "I don't know what to do. And, if she really loves that guy, then I have no right to her."

"I understand, but she has no memory of him, and from what I know, he hasn't come to see her or call to inquire about her wellbeing. You're it for her, and everything she says feels, and wants, when it comes to you, is all about you, not him. Get it?"

"I don't know. I just wish I could be sure it's me she wants and not some idea of a man she can't remember."

"Look, Bell. When she does regain her past, if she does, she's going to remember every touch, kiss, kindness that came from you. You haven't taken advantage of her. So, stop worrying. For all we know, she ditched him before she left Georgia. That makes a hell of a lot more sense and would explain why he's never shown up here."

Bellamy glanced at his watch. "I've got to go. I'll eventually work it out. When I get back, probably best to sit her down, explain everything, and send her home. That'd solve my problem."

"Would it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Not sure your problem is about sex. I think it may be more about falling in love."

* * *

On Wednesday night, when Clarke's call came, Bellamy didn't have to worry about phone sex because Miller was in the room asleep. Well, worry might not have been the right word because the night before, Bellamy had made sure to call her early enough his roommate wouldn't be home. Bellamy didn't want to miss the simultaneous self-serve. Hell no, he didn't. Watching Clarke get herself off while listening to her say how much she craved him was hot. Better than hot. Every time he thought about it, he'd gotten a boner like he was sixteen again.

The screen came to life, and he gasped. "What did you do to your hair?"

She raked her fingers through it. "Put in some pink streaks. You like it?"

Bellamy had always preferred women with long dark hair and dark eyes. Until Clarke. Nothing about her fit his list. Light hair. Shoulder length. Blue-green eyes. But looking at her now, it was the other women who didn't belong. The neon highlights were definitely a turn-on.

"Yeah. I do."

"I'm glad. I thought I might've overdid it."

"I think you look sexy as hell. Especially with what you're wearing." He lowered his voice. "I should mention, Miller is in the next bed, so no dirty business."

She adjusted the strap of her black lace cami, and Bellamy's heart kicked up a notch. Clearly, she'd dressed the part of seductress just in case he'd been alone. Since he wasn't, he'd just have to be happy looking at the soft cleavage spilling from the neckline, and stiff nipples strained against the fabric. He'd love to bury his face between her breasts. Run hands over her body. Feel the satin glide across her skin.

After talking with Nyko, Bellamy had done nothing but think about his comment concerning love. He was right. Bellamy had been overthinking the situation. Well, no more. He was done being the good guy. Since real boyfriend had never shown up, that made Clarke fair game.

She wiggled her brows. "How soundly does he sleep?"

"Not enough to take a risk."

"Hell. That's disappointing."

"Yeah, for me too."

"Really?"

He chuckled. "Are you kidding me? I think you know how much I've liked—you know."

She gave her best innocent expression. "Oh, you mean, the diddle-dial, bone through the phone, textual relations…"

"That's enough! God, you are evil." Damn, if she kept talking like that, he'd have to go to the bathroom because he was already rising.

She giggled. "Sorry. I couldn't resist. I'll behave. Promise. So, any word on when you'll be home?"

"Yeah. Saturday. Not sure about the time, but I'll text you."

"Okay. It's getting late. I'd had better let you get to sleep. If you don't mind, I'm going to Polis tomorrow morning and buy a rug for the living room. That way, they can deliver it with the sofa on Friday morning."

"You don't have to do that. It can wait until I get home."

"No, I want to. That way the house will be perfect. It doesn't even look like the same place now that I have it decorated. It's homier."

"Did you say horny?"

"Now who's being naughty?"

She had him there. But he'd really thought she'd said horny because he was and as soon as he got home, he intended to fix the problem. "Guilty as charged. You're a bad influence."

"So, I guess if I jumped off a cliff, you would too?"

He wanted her so much, he probably would if he thought there was a chance in hell they'd survive the fall. "Well, I wouldn't go that far—probably."

"You're funny. I miss you. So does Rebel. Say hi to him. Come here, boy."

Within a few seconds, the dog jumped onto the bed and ran his tongue across Clarke's cheek. Damn, he was getting the action Bellamy wanted—and needed.

"Hey, mutt! You taking care of Clarke?"

He put his nose so close to the screen all Bellamy could make out was nostrils.

"He's great company. I would have been miserable without him." Her voice went up an octave. "Tell your dad good night."

The dog barked, and Bellamy laughed. He didn't think of himself as a dog daddy. But seeing Clarke's excitement about the house. The rug. Her hair. The dog. Made Bellamy more determined than ever, to put his hang-ups aside and be a real boyfriend. Correction. Lover.

Ten minutes after she ended the call, Bellamy got a text message.

Sexting you a little tail.

When he thumbed open iMessage, it was a picture of Rebel's ass.

* * *

Clarke got up early the next morning, dressed, put Rebel on his leash, fed Alpheus, then headed out the door for her daily walk. Today, she felt more energetic than usual. Her new job gave her purpose. After the phone call with Bellamy, she'd pulled out some of her old song books again, and practiced the guitar. It had all come back easily. She'd prepared an hour set. Figured she'd play for thirty minutes, take a fifteen break, then return for another half-hour.

Since she'd never been to The Bunker, other than to apply for the job, she didn't know what to expect. The crowd might be hardcore country fans who didn't appreciate silly songs about broken hearts and birthdays. Well, Johnny Cash had done all right with "A Boy Named Sue," so maybe she wouldn't get booed off the stage.

That possibility was why she'd not told Bellamy about her new employment. If things didn't go well, she'd never have to admit failure. Well, he'd know because the town was so small, gossip spread. But she could blow it off as a one-time thing. Something she did just to break the boredom of being alone. No biggie. He'd never have to know how much it meant to her.

She pulled a deep breath into her lungs, then released it. The scent of burning firewood wafted the air. Even though no other houses were visible from Bellamy's, her walk took her past two properties. A vacant, run down house not much more than a shack, and a nicer one located down a small lane with no trespassing signs nailed to several trees. The place reminded her of spooky forests she'd read about in fairy tales. Could probably get a song out of it if she tried. No telling what kind of varmints lived in those woods. Wasn't right for a love song, but maybe a kid's song much like the one she'd written about the turtles on a log.

She stopped in her tracks and gasped. She'd written a children's song! And remembered it! Her head spun. How did it go? Oh yeah. It had that silly gibberish. Even if it was for kids, it might be fun for audience participation at the bar. That's what she needed. A couple of numbers to get the crowd involved. A brilliant idea if she did say so herself!

She picked up her pace and mulled over ideas. The scary path might not be suitable material. She'd rather write something happy. A catchy tune popped into her head. One that would be perfect for any group to join in. She'd call it, "I'd Rather." She couldn't wait to get back home and put it on paper.

Rebel trotted to a nearby tree and hiked his leg, then pawed the ground, kicking up leaves. Clarke had never been more in love. With Bellamy. With Rebel. With nature. With life. Maybe this amnesia stuff wasn't so terrible after all. Most of what she'd recalled had been good. She wondered how many people wished they could forget mistakes, bad decisions, and sad times. Probably most. She had the luxury of doing just that. It was time to embrace it and be thankful.

On the way back home, she broke into a trot, mainly for Rebel's sake. It was good to let him burn off some energy since she'd be leaving him alone for a few hours. While she jogged, inside her head, lyrics tossed around like ingredients being added to a recipe. In a way, that's what a song was. Take the right words, mix them to get the perfect rhyme, top them with music, and voila! Tonight, she'd end her performance with the new song.

But first, she needed to make a quick trip to Polis for the rug. That way, the delivery men could put it in place before they brought the sofa inside. She pushed open the door, released Rebel, and he ran to his water bowl. Clarke hated leaving him in the laundry room, but he needed rules and consistency. Even though he had a big fluffy dog bed, he preferred crawling into his crate and sleeping there, which is just what he did as soon as he finished drinking.

"You're such a good boy. I love you, and I'll be back in just a little while."

He sighed, then closed his eyes.

Clarke grabbed her purse, slung the strap over her shoulder and walked to the front door. Just as she placed her hand on the knob, Alpheus caught her attention. Surely, he couldn't be hungry again, but there he was at the top of the tank. She leaned down for a closer look and lost her breath. Sugar-honey-ice tea! He was dead!

* * *

Clarke's heart hammered so hard she risked cracking a rib. What was she going to do? She'd killed Bellamy's pet. She was a horrible person who couldn't be trusted to take care of one tiny fish. This was bad. So bad. Caring for the little swimmer had been the first thing on Bellamy's to-do list. All she'd had to do was feed it, and she'd failed. No, she'd done her job. Made sure he had flakes every day. This wasn't her fault. More than likely, he'd croaked of natural causes.

She palmed her phone and pulled up the top reasons goldfish die. Number one, dirty tanks. That couldn't be it. Bellamy cleaned it right before he left, and the filter kept the water fresh for at least two weeks. Second, constipation, due to overfeeding. Her stomach turned. Oh, no. She'd fed him too much and plugged him up! She scrolled to number three. Shock from a change in water temperature. Couldn't be. The tank was in the same location.

Not giving up, she slid the screen to all the other reasons which listed toxins pointing right back to a dirty environment. Nope. She was the culprit. Clarke Griffin. Amnesiac. Murderer.

Massaging her temples, she tried to think of what to do. No confession over the phone for sure. Maybe there shouldn't be an admission. Ever. Still had time to fix this before Bellamy got home and then he'd never know. All she had to do was replace Alpheus. Leaning low again to bring the deceased to eye level, she tapped at the glass. Still dead. This might be the worst thing she'd ever done. Or maybe not. Without her memory, for all she knew, she could be a serial fish killer.

She plopped onto the bar stool, rested chin in hand, and stared at the lifeless floater. "I'm so sorry, Alpheus. I never meant to kill you." She straightened, sniffed, and wiped her face. Taking a deep breath, she removed the tank cover and lifted the golden goner from the water. Grabbed a paper towel, wrapped him, then slid him into a plastic baggie.

To be successful with the cover up, she'd have to match size and color, or Bellamy might notice. Not that she planned to keep her crime a secret, just didn't want it to be the first bit of news shared.

With the evidence in her purse, she headed to Polis.

Two hours later, with the rug purchase made, and some last-minute shopping, she strolled into PetSmart and went directly to the fish area. As she gazed into the tank, an employee approached her. The name on his vest read Thomas. Something in her brain sparked. Did she know him? Probably not. That was a common name.

"Can I help you with some fish?"

"A fish. I just need one." She dug into her purse. "And it needs to look like this." Pulling out the baggie, she opened it and unwrapped Alpheus. Seeing his little dead body brought tears again. She wiped at her face, and her voice quivered. "This is Alpheus. And I killed him." Unable to stop, she broke into sobs and leaned her head on the man's chest. "It was an accident. I swear."

The clerk patted her shoulder. "I'm sure it wasn't your fault. Fish are fragile. Temperature, container size, how you clean their bowl, even sprays you use in your house. Mist can travel and settle into the water. Any number of things can cause death."

She lifted her head to look up at the man and launched into babble. "No. It was me. I fed him too much, and he couldn't poop. That's what the internet said. I considered all the reasons. But how much is a few?" She waved a hand and shook her head. "That's what the bottle said. Drop a few flakes into the bowl. Well, how am I supposed to know the definition of few? It could be three or six or even ten. I mean, one is one. Two is a couple, three or more is a few. Manufacturers shouldn't leave that decision up to me. Honestly, what do I know about fish?"

The man opened his mouth to speak, but Clarke didn't let up. "I'll tell you what. Nothing. Nada. Well, I mean I know they live in water, but beyond that, I don't have a clue. But here's what I do know. Bellamy is going to be so upset. I mean he leaves me in charge of one measly little fish and what do I do? I kill it!"

Thomas slid his arms around her shoulders. "It's going to be okay. We'll find one that looks just like…"

"Alpheus. His name was Alpheus." She buried her face in her hands and sobbed harder.

"Please ma'am. Don't cry. I know it's an emotional roller coaster when you lose a pet, but keep in mind, Alpheus is a fish. Typically, people don't bond with them the same as with dogs or cats. I doubt your son will be that upset with you. Once you replace Alpheus, there'll be no need to even tell him. Parents do it all the time."

She sniffed, then wiped at her nose. "Bellamy isn't my son. He's my boyfriend. Soon to be fiancée. He doesn't know that I've figured out he plans to propose, but I found the ring. By accident. I wasn't snooping. I'm not a snooper. Really, I'm not."

She stopped. Stared into space. Then looked back at Thomas. "Oh, God. Maybe I am a snooper. I keep saying everything happened by accident, but what if it didn't? What if I'm a habitual snooper-fish-killer? I could be because I don't remember my former life. All my memories have been wiped clean. So, I could be any number of psycho combinations."

Thomas stepped back. "Ma'am. Do I need to call someone?"

Her eyes widened. "You mean like the police?"

"No. No. Like a family member. Or friend."

Clearly the man thought she was crazy, and maybe she was—a little. But unless she wanted someone from the nearest loony bin to come pick her up, she needed to pull herself together. "I'm okay. I apologize. It's just everything has been going really great, and then discovering Alpheus—well, that upset me. But, I'm all right now. I have it out of my system. You're right. People replace fish all the time. Let's just find one to match, and I'll be on my way."

When Clarke got back home, she put Alpheus #2 in the tank and followed Thomas's instructions about the number of flakes to feed. She'd learned her lesson. Next time someone left her in charge of what seemed to be a simple task, she'd research it. No need to take chances.

Standard procedure of fish disposal was to flush them, but she couldn't bring herself to do that. Instead, she took Alpheus to the backyard, gave him a sweet ceremony with an original song and buried him beneath the biggest oak.

Still thinking about the meltdown she'd had in the pet store, Clarke hiked a hip onto a bar stool and gazed into the fish tank at the replacement. She'd never been that emotional before. At least not in the short lifetime she remembered. She should ask someone about her mental state. Perhaps some deep-seated memory from her past sub consciously triggered the collapse.

Before she had time to consider the possibilities, her phone chimed with a text message from Bellamy's mom. Raven was in delivery. Clarke grabbed her purse and rushed to the car. This day was just full of surprises.

Within a few minutes, she arrived at the hospital, parked in the lot and sprinted into the building. She'd spent enough time here, and the place was so small, she knew the maternity ward location. But with only three floors, anyone could find it quickly. On one end of the wing, they delivered babies, on the other, they cared for sick children. That gave her an idea. Didn't know why she'd not thought of it before. Maybe she could arrange to entertain some of the young patients. Tomorrow would be the first of December and kids would begin to think of Santa. Volunteer work might ease the guilt of murdering the fish.

When she got to the waiting room, Bellamy's mom, Octavia, Lina, and a pregnant woman she didn't recognize, waited. The beautiful stranger stuck out her hand. "Hi, I'm Emori Vakasa-Murphy, a family friend."

Clarke accepted the greeting. "Clarke Griffin. Nice to meet you. When are you due?"

"The official date, two weeks, but really, anytime."

Emori returned to her seat, and Clarke sat next to Aurora. "I never asked if Roan and Raven have picked out a name."

Octavia answered. "Charles Roan King. The Charles is after Raven's grandfather. They plan to call him Charlie."

"Charlie King has a nice ring."

"We're using the same formula for our baby, too," Emori said. "Our first son has my husband's middle name." She rubbed her belly. "We're naming this one Oliver, after my dad, and John after my husband again. He insisted. And I thought women were supposed to be vain!"

Roan appeared, face beaming as he swept his hair off his shoulders into a man bun. "He's here! Seven pounds, ten ounces. Raven is doing great. In about an hour, they'll move her to a room. Charlie's on the way to the nursery. You can see him in a few minutes."

Down the hall, Clarke hung back and let Octavia, Emori, and Mrs. Blake get the first view of Charlie. But once they made space for her, she studied everything about him. His little fingers, the way his nose wrinkled, how big his mouth opened when he yawned. Watching the tiny newborn caused her stomach to flutter. She couldn't wait to hold him. But that wouldn't happen today, she realized after checking her phone. She needed to go back home and get ready for her first performance. Maybe the butterflies weren't from seeing the sweet bundle of joy, but rather, her debut at The Bunker. She didn't remember the last time she'd sang in front of anyone. Maybe never. Marcus had not mentioned that she had.

The more she thought about it, the more nervous she got. What if the crowd hated her music? Worse, what if they hated her? Other than Bellamy's family, she didn't remember anyone in Arkadia, and since she wasn't a hometown girl, locals might find her songs stupid or offensive and run her out of town.

If that happened, at least she'd look good. The new outfits she'd bought earlier made her feel—pretty. Sexy even. Tonight, she'd top her black leather pants with a cold shoulder zip front red sweater. How far she zipped it, depended on how much attitude she wanted to project.

On top of the guilt she had over the fish incident, leaving Rebel alone for most of the day made it even worse. That's why she'd ask Octavia to take him home with her to spend the night. Even though Clarke only planned an hour set, it could run longer. This way, she wouldn't worry about the dog being closed up in the laundry room for so long.

By the time Clarke bathed, dressed, and sent Rebel on his way for a sleepover, the weather had taken a turn. The temperature plummeted fifteen degrees, and dark clouds covered the sky. She stared into the backyard where wind stripped the few remaining leaves from the trees. Her stomach twisted and turned just like the currents. Self-doubt niggled at her neck, but she drew a deep breath and willed it away. She could do this. Had to. Regardless of her memory loss, she couldn't put her life on hold waiting for it to return. That might never happen. No. This was the right thing to do—even if she failed.

The good thing about being a one-woman show, it didn't involve big production. Stool, a microphone, and a tip jar. When she arrived, Gustus had all that set up. Apparently, the posters had done their job because The Bunker had a full house. Probably townsfolk curious about what kind of music the "new girl" had to offer.

Clarke glanced around the room checking statistics. Mostly couples ranging from college age to senior citizens, with the younger crowd being larger. That helped ease her nerves. She wasn't sure how older folks would take to her crazy lyrics.

Gustus stepped to the microphone, gave her a short introduction, then turned it over to her. She slid onto the stool, rested her guitar on her thigh, and took a deep breath.

"Good evening, folks. As Gustus said, all my songs are original. But what he didn't tell you is most are about bad breakups. When it comes to love, I've had a few bad experiences. You know, cheating."

A few patrons groaned.

"But I'm sure none of you have ever cheated, so these songs aren't about you. This first one is called "Bad Birthday," and it goes like this." Clarke strummed a few chords, then launched into song.

When you dumped me on my birthday

I thought my heart would break

But I pulled myself together

And licked the icing off my cake

Then I gathered all your pictures

to stack them in a pile

and used the pretty candles to

set them all on fire

I yanked down the streamers

and popped the colored balloons

Made a point to delete our song

from my account on iTunes

By the time she finished the third verse, whistles, hoots, and laughter filled the room, and her nerves disappeared. The evening couldn't have gone better and when she sang "There Was Nothing Between Us but Your Penis," women gave her a standing ovation. Seemed like every female had the same story and appreciated Clarke had put it to music. As planned, she ended the performance with audience participation singing, "I'd Rather." This was where members shouted what they'd rather do than end up with a loser. Once Clarke had their suggestion, she worked it into the song.

Biggest hit of the night.

Good thing she'd made arrangements for Rebel because she ended up doing a double set. At this rate, she'd have to add to her playlist. Even though the bar stayed open until two, by eleven, the crowd thinned due to the weather. Worse now, with freezing rain coating the streets with a slick layer of ice.

"You probably shouldn't try to drive in this mess," Gustus said. "You mentioned you're living with Bellamy, and he's out of town, so why don't you stay here tonight. I have a room with a private bath." He pointed to the wall of mirrors behind the bar. "It's back there, and you're welcome to it."

"You mean, sleep in the bar?"

He chuckled. "I can tell by your expression you think that sounds creepy, but if it makes you feel any better, my husband and I live upstairs, and it isn't so bad."

"Oh." He was right, now it didn't sound weird. Plus, she hated the thought of driving on icy roads and going home alone. Since Rebel was taken care of, it wasn't important to get there. Still, it was sleeping in a bar. "Why do you have a bedroom here?"

"Back in my younger single days, it came in handy, if you know what I mean. By the songs you sang, I know you do."

She giggled. "You weren't one of those guys, were you?"

"Sad to admit, I was—for a while. You know. Got out of the air force, came home, worked here with my dad. I had a few wild oats to sow, but once I met Artigas, those days were over."

"You bet they were," Artigas slid up from behind him and tossed a arm over Gustus' shoulder. "Clarke, I loved your show. You're so different from the twangy cowboys we usually have. Not that there's anything wrong with them. But you're a breath of fresh air. You need a bigger tip jar. I had to empty it twice." He held up an envelope. "Want to guess how much you made?"

"I hope about—two hundred?"

Artigas handed the money to Clarke. "Over twice that."

Clarke squealed. "Are you kidding?"

"Nope. I'm telling you. You're a huge hit. How about coming back tomorrow night?"

Fanning the bills, Clarke stared at the money. That much calculated to two hundred dollars an hour! This was better than anything she had imagined. "I'm not sure it will do any good. We didn't announce it."

"No need. I'll put it on all my social media. I made videos, so I'll post those, as well. I guarantee, we'll have as many people as we did tonight. Whattaya say?"

"Okay! Thank you."

"No, sweetie, thank you. The bar had one of our best nights ever. So, it's a win-win."

Gustus slipped his arm around his husband's shoulders. "I offered to let Clarke stay in the spare room."

"That's a great idea. If the roads aren't clear by noon, Gustus can drive you home in the jeep for a change of clothes. You can even use it as your dressing room. Take your breaks there. Only one drawback. The bathroom backs up to the bar restrooms, and the walls are so thin, you can hear what's going on in them."

Gustus laughed. "Not bad if you want to find out everybody's secrets. You can hear some pretty raunchy conversations. On the bright side, you might get material for new songs."

* * *

 **Bellamy finally gets some much needed advice, and Clarke's a serial fish killer.**

 **And yeah, the songs ARE bad.**

 **Can't wait til tomorrows episode now my babies are reunited.**

 **Sorry for the late update. I usually do it before noon central on 5th day, but I guess in other countries it's Tuesday morning already rather than Monday night. Time zones are whack.**


	19. Chapter 19

Clarke sat on the edge of the spare rooms bed and spread the money out before her. She couldn't believe her good fortune. Four hundred and sixteen bucks for doing something she loved! If this kept up, she would never have to go back to Atlanta, whether she got her memory back or not. The thought of her secretarial job made her stomach hurt. Even if she didn't remember her past, sitting behind a desk all day sounded like torture. Which made her wonder again why she'd taken the job? Maybe to be close to her family? Or, perhaps she'd been right all along, she wasn't good at anything and he'd hired her out of pity.

This amnesia crap had gone on long enough. She'd been patient and not asked questions as the doctors had ordered, and a few memories had come back. But it wasn't working as quickly as she'd like. She needed to know who she was. Really was.

And what Bellamy felt. Not once since she regained consciousness had he told her how he felt about her.

Until tonight, she'd not given that much thought. But seeing so many couples together, and singing songs about how she'd been cheated on, caused her to consider things she'd taken for granted. There couldn't be a man more kind or thoughtful—or patient. And there had been moments of intimacy. Hand holding. Sweet kisses. Gentle caresses. But thinking back, he'd never really expressed his feelings. Sure, the no sex rule had kept him from starting anything physical, but that shouldn't have prevented him saying he loved her—if he did.

Oh, God. Maybe everything he'd done had been out of pity, too. No. She was overthinking the situation. Why plan to propose if he didn't love her? But to be sure, when he came home, she'd ask. She might not remember their life together, but she knew him well enough to know he wouldn't lie.

She put the cash away and traipsed into the bathroom, filled the tub, then settled into the hot water. Her bones warmed, and her muscles eased. All the useless speculation had her tense with worry. Why borrow trouble? Her life was perfect, and she kept trying to find something wrong. The songs. It was the stupid songs. They were a clear reflection of her past, and it had not been good. Especially in the relationship department. That was the problem. She'd finally found a good one, and yet doubt kept trying to screw up things.

She stood and wrapped a towel around her body and tucked the corner in between her breasts. What she needed to do was write some positive love songs. There were still plenty of notebooks she'd not gone through, she was bound to already have some. Even if previous lovers had turned out to be jerks, in the beginning, she must have been smitten enough to pen a mushy song.

She dried off, then hung the damp towel over the shower rod. Along with the sheets Artigas had brought, he'd included a pair of pajamas. Clarke slipped into them. Crawling into bed, she checked her phone. Two texts. Both from Bellamy.

Hear I'm an uncle again.

Miss you.

She blinked back tears. What a stupid, silly girl she was. He missed her. He loved her, and if he wasn't ready to say it yet, then she needed to wait until he was. God, she wanted to call him. Hear him breathe. Gasp. Moan. The phone sex had that effect and knowing it did, caused heat to spread from her head to her toes, which curled at the thought of his naked body.

She understood sex didn't mean commitment, but she also knew commitment couldn't survive without it. Besides, they'd not had sex—yet. Unless she counted hand jobs and phone sex. She giggled. That sounded like a song title for sure. She needed to get her mind out of the gutter. If not, she'd have to get herself off, and somehow it wasn't as much fun without Bellamy watching.

Switching off the bedside lamp, she snuggled deep into the comforter. One more day and he'd be home. She couldn't wait.

* * *

The next morning when Clarke woke and squinted at her phone screen, she bolted upright. Eleven o'clock! She never slept that late. But then again, she rarely stayed up past midnight. If she kept this up, she really would be living like a musician. Well, tonight, she'd do it all over again. But first, she wanted to go to the hospital and play for the young patients if the weather permitted.

There were no windows in the room so she'd have to rely on her radar phone app or go to the bar. After washing her face, she pulled on her pants, threaded her arms through her sweater, and stuck her feet into her boots.

Since The Bunker served lunch, they would already be open, but probably not busy. And that was a good thing because she didn't have any makeup. She finger combed her hair, threw her purse and jacket over her arm, and opened the bedroom door. The aroma of grilled onions and peppers assaulted her senses. Ah, chicken fajitas. The Bunker's top menu item. Taking a few steps, she paused and scanned the place. No more than a dozen customers sprinkled throughout the dining area.

Gustus glanced up. "Hey, rock star."

That made her laugh. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was that she'd never been considered a star of any kind. Not now or in her past life. "That's funny."

"No, it isn't. Artigas put a video of last night's performance online, and the damn thing has gone viral."

"What do you mean, viral?"

"Like someone shared it on YouTube and as of an hour ago, it already had thirty thousand views."

"Are you kidding?"

"Nope. I have a feeling tonight we'll have standing room only. Hell, you may have to do three sets because I don't plan to turn anyone away. I've already ordered extra beer. The truck should be here this afternoon."

Clarke staggered to a stool and slid onto it, staring incredulously. Her heart pattered - excitedly or anxiously, she didn't know. "I can't believe it. I never dreamed that many people would like silly songs."

"Well, they do, and I think we need to negotiate a contract because I don't want you going anywhere else. Hell, if this keeps up, you'll draw crowds as big the Festival and it's been going on for over fifty years."

"Could be just my fifteen minutes of fame and in a few days, it'll be over."

"Maybe. But in case I'm right, I've already got my lawyer drawing up the agreement. I'm thinking you'll be exclusive to The Bunker for say—six months. Does that sound okay?"

Clarke massaged her temples to stop the pounding in her head. Surely she was dreaming, and any minute she'd wake and find herself standing in the middle of her backyard staring at the clouds making them into animals, objects or faces. As a child, that had been her escape from reality.

There was a word for it. What had her dad called it? Para something. No. Pareidolia. When the mind plays tricks, and you see things that aren't there. Well, her mind was in trick overdrive. Thirty thousand people? Unbelievable.

She shook her head. Wait. She remembered her backyard! The house where she grew up! The conversation with Dad! Her brain flooded with memories. Birthdays. Holidays. School events.

"Are you okay?"

Gustus' voice brought her back to the moment. "Oh. I'm sorry. I just remembered some things from my past. Yeah. Of course. Six months will be fine. My godfather is a lawyer, so I'll have him look over the contract. Will that be all right?"

"Absolutely. I wouldn't want it any other way."

She took a deep breath. "Okay. Now that's settled, how's the weather?"

By the time Clarke finished visiting the children's ward, stopped by Raven's room, and picked up Rebel, it was five o'clock. She took him for a walk, fed new Alpheus, then headed back to The Bunker. In case she wanted to change clothes for each performance, and on the off chance the weather took another unexpected turn, she'd packed an overnight bag.

Standing before the bathroom mirror, Gustus' warning of thin walls proved right. Clarke could hear everything being said on the other side. Two women talking. One with a tinny voice, the other more mellow.

"Girl, you have to lay off the tequila shots. That guy is ugly," Tinny voice said.

"I know. But in my defense, the lights are so low in there, I didn't get a good look at him."

"Well, maybe so, but you're stuck with him now."

"All the more reason to keep doing shots. Maybe he'll get better looking as the night goes on."

Clarke walked to the corner chair, picked up her pad and pencil and wrote.

When he came in the lights were dim

I didn't get a good look at him.

Broad shoulders backlit with neon

Got my interest and gave me good reason

To accept the drink he sent over

I realized my mistake as he got closer

Holy crap, he was U-G-L-Y

I searched my brain for an alibi

But then I downed another shot

And he didn't look as bad as I first thought

That got me to thinking

All the more reason to keep drinking

Looks aren't everything we can all agree

There may be hidden talent beneath those jeans

Ladies raise your glasses to men everywhere

Short, fat, ugly, who gives a care

It isn't the packaging that should make us quiver

It's more about him being able to deliver

Man, Gustus was right. The bathroom conversations would be great for inspiration.

* * *

Eager to get home, Bellamy woke Miller before dawn. Leaving New Jersey at noon the day before had cut Saturday's drive time in half. With few stops, estimated arrival in Arkadia was eight o'clock. Bellamy couldn't wait to sleep in his own bed—and have Clarke curled next to him.

Since the sexy phone calls, he'd thought about her more and more. Nyko was right. It wasn't just about wanting to have sex, but more about how Bellamy felt. Hell, he'd fallen for her. Big time. The feelings had been there from the beginning but sorting them out took a while. The lie still bothered him. If Nyko was right -and Bellamy wanted to trust he was, then Clarke wanted him, not the boyfriend she'd confused him with. Just saying it didn't even make sense, but he had to believe the theory. Especially if they were to have a future together. And he wanted that more than he'd wanted anything in a long time.

The dilemma still nagged at him. Tell her the truth and hope for the best—or let things play out—and hope for the best. Either way—a risk. If he told her, she might leave. Who was he kidding? She'd bail for sure, but then again, if he waited for her memory to return…

He raked his hand over his face. The thought of losing her made his lungs burn.

"You want me to drive?"

Miller's question brought Bellamy back to the present. "No, I'm good for a while."

"Okay, but I'll take over anytime. You look—tired or maybe worried. Which is it?"

He glanced in his rearview and changed lanes before answering. "Little of both."

"About Clarke?"

Because of Bellamy's lifelong friendship with Miller, there wasn't much they didn't discuss, but Bellamy's love life had not been a topic of conversation in a while. Well, the lack of one had been, but now that he had an interest, he wasn't sure how much he wanted to reveal.

"Yeah."

"Just do her, man. You make everything way more complicated than it needs to be."

Bellamy shook his head. God, if it was only that easy. "Not that simple."

"Yeah. Kinda is. She wants it. You want it. Can't get more uncomplicated than that."

"Under normal circumstances, you'd be right, but you know there's nothing ordinary about our situation."

"Look, bro. I know you've got this hang up about the whole boyfriend mix up, but I've been giving this some thought. She doesn't think you're the boyfriend. I believe she thinks you are the boyfriend."

Bellamy cocked his head and drew his brows together. "Same thing."

"No, it's not. She doesn't think you're this Finn guy. She doesn't even remember him so how could she assign your identity to that dude? Because she saw you the night of the wreck, I think she turned you into an original boyfriend. Not one from her past. You said you don't look anything like him, so that's the only thing that makes sense." Miller paused to look at his phone. "If you did, then I could understand the mistake, but since you have nothing in common with the guy, I don't think that's what happened."

Bellamy hated to admit it, but Miller had a point. According to Clarke's family, Finn was white collar. Long hair. White. Slight build. About as opposite from Bellamy as a guy could get. "Since when did you become Dr. Phil?"

"Hey, doesn't take a genius to figure that out. But you may have more of a problem than you think and it has nothing to do with her old love interest."

"What do you mean?"

Miller wiggled his phone in the air. "Dude. She's been performing at The Bunker for the past two nights, and there's video. She's a big hit. There's even one of her singing with the kids at the hospital. Both have thousands of views."

Bellamy whipped the truck over to the shoulder of the road. "Let me see that."

Miller unplugged the earbuds and passed the phone.

Turning up the volume, Bellamy listened and watched. Clarke's joyful expression and the animation as she sang, brought a smile. Then seeing the little patients look at her with such adoration made his heart squeeze.

Miller groaned. "Oh hell, you're not going to cry, are you?"

Bellamy cut his eyes to Miller and glared. Miller looked ready to hightail it out of the truck and hitch a ride home. "No."

"Good. Cause I don't have a clue how to comfort you. Go to the next one."

By the time Bellamy finished hearing her sing "You Give Me Asthma," he laughed. Damn. She was different from any woman he'd ever known. And apparently, plenty of people thought the same. The silly song had over two hundred thousand views. The hospital visits just over half that amount.

He was done playing pretend boyfriend. Tonight, he'd become the real deal.

* * *

Saturday evening at six o'clock, Clarke drove by The Bunker, and her heart skipped. People lined the sidewalk halfway down the block. Were they all here to see her? She turned down the alley and parked near the back door. This was insane. Never in her wildest imagination was this possible.

She took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts. Earlier, she'd faxed the contract Gustus had drafted to Marcus, and he'd given his blessing. So, with signed and notarized papers in hand, she got out of the car, headed inside, and found Artigas waiting.

He grabbed Clarke's arm, pulled her forward, and closed the door behind him. "Clarke! I have to warn you. There are cameras and newsmen set up in the bar. Girl, you are an overnight sensation. Phone calls have come in all day, and I've been acting as your agent. You have six offers on the table for interviews at radio stations as far away as Huntsville, and a local request from WSFA in Montgomery. We have at least a dozen inquiries for private parties. I won't be surprised to hear from major markets in the next few days. Are you up for all of this?"

She dropped her duffle and purse, leaned against the stainless-steel counter to steady herself, and pointed. "All those people are here to see me?"

"They sure are. I need to know what to tell them. If you don't want to do three performances, I'll break the news that they'll have to come back next Thursday. Unless—you want to schedule more nights."

She swallowed hard and placed a hand on her chest. "I can't breathe. I need a drink of water."

Artigas scurried away, talking over his shoulder. "Water. Yeah, water. I'll get it. So, what do you think? Add another set or send them away?" He filled a glass and rushed back to Clarke.

She gulped, then squared her shoulders. Her head spun. If she moved the first show to seven, the second one to eight, and added a third at nine, she could still be home when Bellamy got there. Explaining the plan to Artigas, Clarke noted a concern. "You'll have to run people out between shows in order to bring in the next group. What if they don't want to leave?"

"Already working on that. We have a crew setting up rental tables and chairs on the back porch. Those who want to stay and drink can move. I don't expect many to take us up on the offer because the fire pit out there won't provide much heat. Next week, we can get a carpenter to enclose it."

Clarke staggered to a stool, sat, and finished off her water. "I'm not sure you should invest in that. This is probably just a one-time thing. A novelty. As soon as the new wears off, the crowds will stop."

Artigas took the glass and refilled it, then brought it back to Clarke. "I don't think so. Too many people are showing an interest. Not just in the performance here, but someone at the hospital recorded you with the kids. That video is getting a lot of views and comments. As soon as they find out your story, you know, your memory loss, I think interest will build even more."

Artigas patted Clarke's arm. "Besides, we'll need a place for the private parties I mentioned. This is going to be great for our business, and I can't thank you enough. If you signed the contract, that is."

Clarke nodded because she didn't know what to say. All she'd wanted was to make enough money so as not to feel like she was taking advantage of Bellamy's kindness. But this? Radio and TV? She'd not even told Bellamy about her new job. Big mistake. Oh, Lord. What if he'd seen the videos?

She scrambled for her phone, then looked at Artigas. "For tonight, let's move the first and second performances up an hour, and add a third at nine. I'm sorry, but I need to make a call."

"Great! I'll tell Gustus and let the people in line know."

Clarke punched in Bellamy's number. He answered on the second ring. "Hey, you."

"Have you seen the videos?"

"Yeah. Why didn't you tell me?"

She tried to keep the quiver from her voice but failed. Wasn't sure why she wanted to cry, but she did. "I didn't think it would be a big deal. It's gotten out of control. You should see the line of people outside The Bunker. I've had to add a third set at nine o'clock. You're not mad, are you?"

"Why would I be?"

She swiped at her eyes. "Because." She knew she was being irrational.

"You're not crying, are you?"

"Maybe just a little." She laughed, a bit half-heartedly. Clarke hadn't anticipated feeling so overwhelmed, a knot in her stomach that she wasn't sure whether she wanted to have an Elle Woods Me! Moment, or throw up.

"Don't. I'm not mad. I'm proud of you."

Hearing those words just made her want to cry harder. "You are?"

"Yes."

Heat rushed over her skin, and a dull ache settled between her legs.

Her voice dropped an octave. "Is Miller with you?"

He hesitated, then, "yes."

"But he can't hear what I'm saying?"

"No."

"Good. You are so going to get laid tonight."

Bellamy chuckled. "I'm counting on it."

She rose her eyebrows. She was so used to him prying her off him that his acceptance was a little jarring. "You are?"

"Damn straight. I'll see you in a few hours, okay?"

"Okay. Oh—and Bellamy?"

"Yeah?"

"Hurry."

"Already am."

Clarke clicked off, held the phone to her chest, and closed her eyes. She inhaled a long breath through her nose, then exhaled out her mouth. Repeating the exercise twice more, she rose from the stool, gathered her wits, and went to her dressing room. This would be a night to remember in so many ways it made her dizzy.

* * *

At nine-thirty, Bellamy's arrival didn't go unnoticed by Clarke. Jeans. Boots. And the blue button-up she loved so much. He looked like sex on a stick, and God if she didn't want to lick him all over. She shook her head to make the sex licking image go away, then announced to the crowd, "Okay, ladies and guys, you know how this works. You give me something you'd rather do than waste your time with some loser. Here we go."

A curvy blonde hoisted her glass in the air. "I'd rather eat a bug." Her friends hooted and hollered.

A plump woman in the back shouted, "I'd rather cook for a criminal."

Another voice came from somewhere. "Shave off all my hair."

Then another. "Dance on a pole."

"Stick a needle in my eye."

A deep voice rang out. "Fight a bear."

Clarke held up her hand. "Okay, here we go." She strummed a few times, then launched into song.

I'd rather be stuck with a thousand needles

I'd rather fight a bear

I'd rather clean Windsor Castle

Or shave off all my hair

I'd rather cook for a serial killer

Or pull out all my teeth

I'd rather eat boiled caterpillars

Or drive the get-away car for a thief

I'd rather eat a bug

Or be stuck to pole like glue

I'd rather do all of that

Then spend another minute with you

The crowd came to their feet yelling and whistling. Clarke stood and leaned into the mike. "Y'all drink up. I'm going to take a quick break. Be back in fifteen."

She placed her guitar on its stand, walked to the bar and whispered to Gustus, then hurried to her dressing room. Within a minute, someone tapped on the door. She jerked it open and pulled Bellamy inside, and slammed it closed behind her.

* * *

 **Dun dun dun, whats about to happen next? ;P**

 **I hope the songs aren't TOO annoying.**

 **Thank you to everyone who leaves feedback. You guys rock and make all the head banging writer's block worth it. I always get a smile when I see a new comment.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Warning: Mature themes ahead. Tread lightly if you don't want to read smut.**

* * *

In a flash, Clarke pinned him against the door. Her arms went around his neck, and she crushed her mouth against his, kissing him until she couldn't breathe. When she pulled away, she moved her hands to the snap of his jeans, and made short work of it, then slid down his zipper.

Hands on her shoulders, Bellamy struggled for air. "Hey, hey, babe, don't you want to wait until we get home?"

She raised her eyebrows and let out a laugh. Was he joking? Clarke had wanted to get her hands on him for ages. "No. Absolutely not."

As she talked, she slipped her hand inside his boxers and wrapped her fingers around his erection. "I don't think you want to wait either."

He jerked at her touch, a tiny whine escaping his throat as she slid the pad of her thumb around the head. She grinned in response, triumphant that she could bring out this side of him.

"I don't. But you only have a short break..." His eyes closed and his jaw clenched, head falling on her shoulder. "Fuck. That feels good."

Slow, steady strokes brought him to a full hard-on. She gazed up at him. "Okay. No foreplay. Just fast."

"Sure you wanna skip foreplay?" He joined her rhythm, thrusting into her hand. "I'm pretty damn good at it." He wanted to get his mouth on her.

She grinned. "You can show me later."

Nudging her back, he ran his hands under her skirt and hooked his fingers in her panties.

She stepped away.

He groaned his disappointment, and that got her hotter. Shimmying out of the bikinis, she unbuttoned her skirt and let it drop to the floor. At the same time, he'd shoved his jeans and boxer briefs below his hips, freeing himself for action, and that's what she wanted. She reached for his hand and placed it between her legs.

He slipped a finger inside her and she grinded down on his hand. "Holy fuck, you're wet."

"Just wanted you to see I don't need foreplay." She ran her thumb over the swollen head of his cock.

He shuddered against her. "Stop. I need to ask you something."

She gasped. "What?"

"If things were different, and you remembered everyone but me. You know—if I was a stranger, would you still want me?"

She blinked, then blinked again. He picked the damnedest time to have a philosophical discussion. "Yes. Don't you get it? That wouldn't matter because I've fallen in love with you all over again. So, please, Bellamy, just fuck me already."

He groaned. "Wait. I don't have a condom."

She cocked her head. "Why would you need one? You know I have an IUD."

"Oh. Uh—yeah. I just thought you might not want to get messy—you know since you have to go back out there."

She brushed her lips over his. "I want you to mess me up."

Clarke couldn't help the satisfied sigh that escaped her lips as the tip of his head brushed against her sensitive nerves. She moved up and down his length, coating him in her, feeling his hips stutter against her while his fingers gripped her thighs hard enough to leave marks as he lifted her and staggered two steps forward to set her ass on the desk.

He pulled her closer and eased into her like he belonged there. And he did. Maybe she didn't remember her past relationships, but couldn't imagine loving anyone more than Bellamy. She locked her legs around him, and he cupped her hips to hold her in place as he pumped into her. To get the right position, she angled her body. "There, right there. Just like that."

He took her mouth, stole her breath, slid his tongue across hers, and she rocked against him, wanting more. Cupping her face in his hands, Bellamy deepened the kiss, his fingers dancing lightly over her shoulders and arms until they found her breasts. She moaned, a purr to her ears, as his thumbs grazed the nipples under her t-shirt and bra. His lips moved from her mouth to her jaw and along the column of her throat as his hand found her clit.

He must have sensed how close she was because he buried his face in her hair and whispered, "Open your eyes. I want you to see me when you come."

She locked her gaze, clenched around him, and let go. The orgasm crashed over her, but she didn't let up, just kept pace until he shuddered his response.

Both panting, she rested her head on his shoulder, savoring the moment while she catched her breath. "I love you. I've missed you, and I'm so glad you are home."

He held her tighter, dragging his blunt nails up and down her spine until she shivered. "Me, too."

While Bellamy put himself back together, Clarke grabbed her clothes from the floor and went to the bathroom. If she could hear what happened on the other side of that wall, then it stood to reason so could those bathroom patrons. Staring into the mirror, she had a one-sided mental conversation. Me, too? What the hell did that mean? Me, too, I love you? Missed you? Glad to be home? Or was it a blanket statement to all three?

Okay, she'd decided to give him time, so there was no need to change the plan. Besides, the best opportunity to say it might not be in the middle of sex. Emotions ran high. A guy could get carried away by the moment. Getting his brains screwed out might keep him from thinking straight. Clearly, he'd missed her. Hadn't even tried to talk her out of sex, which meant he'd just been waiting for the doctor's ridiculous abstinence period to end. If he had refused, that would have planted some serious doubt.

During the past three weeks, fleeting moments of uncertainty had racked her brain. The man had discipline. She'd give him that. God knew she'd tried to seduce him in every way imaginable, but he'd stood firm. Another reason she liked him so much. He was willing to control his desire for the sake of her well-being.

She glanced at her watch. Damn, he was good on so many levels. Talk about following instructions. Hard and fast, and he still got the job done with time to spare. When she came from the bathroom, Bellamy sat on the bed looking like nothing had happened. How'd he do that? Her body still tingled—hummed, and even though she'd been satisfied, she was still turned on.

When she reached the bed, he slipped his hands to her waist and raised her shirt enough to press his lips to bare skin. "You're full of surprises." He licked a spot just below her ribs, then sucked it into his hot mouth.

A shiver ran through her, and damn if she didn't want to rip off his clothes and have him again. "After the phone sex, I didn't think I could do anything unexpected."

He pulled back enough to look up at her, laughed under his breath, and arched a brow. "I tried not to think about it, because every time I did, I'd get hard."

"You'd resisted me so much, I thought that might be the only way we'd have sex. Thank God, you didn't refuse tonight."

He smiled, smoothing his hands down her side. "Clarke, you've had me primed all week. No way in hell that was going to happen." He kissed her skin again, then looked up at her once more. "But you knew that, didn't you? It was all part of your plan."

She flashed him her most innocent look. "Who me? I—I…"

Chuckling, he put her shirt back in place. "I'm onto you."

She grinned. "Not at the moment, but later tonight I sure hope you are."

He rose, scooped her into his arms and crushed her lips with an open mouth kiss. When he let her come up for air, he whispered, "I'm crazy about you. But, you know that, right?"

She took a quick breath. That was close to saying he loved her, but she still needed the real words. "No."

"Well, I am. I may not be good at showing it, but you're one of the most important people in my life."

Then he kissed her again, the kind that caused her toes to curl and her blood to heat. He loved her. No doubt. It was stupid how three little words put so much fear into people. But they did, and she'd just have to live with that and accept how special they'd be once he did say them.

She wanted to stay there, but her time was up. Back to the stage. "I've got to get back out there. We'll talk more at home."

"Speaking of home, I forgot to mention the decorating you did while I was gone. I like it."

"I'm glad." She moved to the door, opened it, then turned back to face him. "You're one of the most important people in my life, too. Thank you for coming tonight."

He grinned. "To the show—or in you?"

She took her bottom lip between her teeth. "You know, Bellamy…" She pressed her lips to his ear and whispered, "Both." Then she left and closed the door behind her.

* * *

He ran his hand over his face. No, he couldn't confess. Not yet. He wasn't ready to lose her. Probably never would be. For the first time in years, he was happy. Really happy. He'd been dead inside for so long, he'd forgotten how it felt to have a woman care about him—depend on him—love him.

What Nyko and Miller had said made perfect sense. Clarke didn't remember Finn so whatever she felt for Bellamy, belonged to him. He'd been an idiot to think otherwise, and now that he knew she'd want him even if he were a stranger eased his conscience about having sex.

It'd sure been hot tonight. The way she'd tightened around his cock—clutched his shoulders as if her life depended on the connection—kissed him like she wanted to devour him. All of it made him insane with lust. Well, if he were honest, it was more than that. He knew he was setting himself up for heartbreak, and he wasn't sure he could survive another one, but no risk, no gain. Yeah. Right. He'd given himself that pep talk all week.

Problem was, he'd kept his guard up for so long, letting go scared the hell out of him. Turned out, fear didn't prevent him from falling hard. All the logical arguments didn't mean squat when it came to Clarke. Little by little she'd broken down every barrier, and there'd not been a damn thing he could do about it.

Boisterous applause coming from the bar rattled the walls. Bellamy stood, adjusted his junk because just thinking about her had him rising again. Then he strolled back out to get a drink. Hell, after the workout he'd just had, he needed a double.

He sauntered to the end of the bar and reclaimed the space he'd had before. Not a popular location if you wanted to get close to the star. He didn't have to worry about that. He glanced around the room. Several guys looked at Clarke in a way Bellamy didn't like, but hey, guys were guys. They could look all they wanted. No harm in that.

From behind him, a familiar voice broke his concentration.

"Hey, Bellamy. How are you doing?"

He turned to address the man. "Mr. Bragg. Nice to see you. I'm doing okay. You?"

"Getting by. How's your mom? Octavia? Raven?"

"All good. Mrs. Bragg?"

"Just finished chemo. You should come by the house sometime. I know she'd like to see you."

"I'll try to do that."

Mr. Bragg stuck out his hand. "Good to see you."

Bellamy accepted the handshake. "Yeah, you, too. Take care."

He strolled away, and Bellamy breathed a sigh of relief. Even though Roma had been gone for years, seeing her dad was awkward. Bellamy always felt like he should apologize for not being able to save her. The family didn't blame him, but he wondered if he'd ever stop blaming himself.

Clarke started another song, and Bellamy let his mind wander back to the back room. Hell of a lot better thinking about her soft skin, the taste of her lips, and sweetness of her voice, than dwelling on the past.

Gustus set another beer in front of him, glanced at Clarke, then back at Bellamy. "She's something, isn't she?"

"Incredible." There were other words he could use to describe her, but none appropriate enough to share. He turned the bottle up and swigged.

* * *

Just before midnight, Bellamy pulled his truck in next to Clarke's car, then lowered the garage door. By the time he got in the house, she was tearing at his clothes. Kissing him like a starving woman about to have her next meal.

"Slow down, babe. I want to take care of you this time."

She gazed up at him. "God, I love when you call me that."

Light from the moon crept through the back-patio doors, spilling across the living room into the kitchen enough to cast her in a warm glow. He stepped away, slid a chair from the dining table and sat. "Take off your clothes."

She didn't hesitate. First, she kicked out of her shoes, then the skirt went, followed by the shirt, leaving her in bright pink bikinis and lace bra. Earlier, he'd not noticed the color. They matched the streaks in her hair. Total turn on. Especially the way her full rounded tits rose over the top of the French cups.

She unhooked the bra, let it fall to the floor, then moved closer and pointed to her panties. "You want to do the honors, or want me to?"

Funny she should refer to it that way because, in his book, it was a privilege. "My pleasure." He hooked a thumb on each side and slid the lingerie past her knees, lightly nipping at her hip in the process.

She removed one foot, let the pair circle her other ankle, then stepped out of them.

He leaned back and eyed her from top to bottom. "Damn, you're beautiful." He nestled his face between her breasts, cupped her sweet ass, and brought her to stand between his legs. He inhaled a long breath. "You smell good, too."

She ran her fingers through his hair. "When you walked in tonight, my heart skipped a beat. Just the sight of you makes that happen."

She straddled him, but he pushed back. "Not here. I want you under me. In our bed." He rose, took her by the hand and led her down the hallway.

"Wait," she paused. "We should see about Rebel. He probably needs to go out."

"No, he's good. I let him out before I came to the bar."

With that, she sprinted ahead and jumped onto the bed. "Your turn to get naked." She raised up on her knees and crooked her finger. "Come here. I'll help."

He moved to her, and she went to work. As she slid each button from its hole, she laid his shirt open and planted a kiss. When she got to the snap on his jeans, she didn't stop. She pressed her lips to his stomach, and he thought he'd come undone. God, he loved the way her lips felt against his skin. Especially that location. No one hadn't gone down that happy trail in a hell of a long time.

He threaded fingers through her hair and lifted her face. "Nuh-uh. You do that, and I won't last." He wanted to take his time with her. The quickie had been great, but he wanted a marathon.

He had serious catching up to do.

* * *

Clarke was lost in him. In his mouth moving from one breast to the other while his work-roughened hands explored her trembling body with abandon. He trailed his hot lips south marking his territory with soft, hot kisses along each thigh and when he settled between her legs, she arched up to give him better access. Nothing could have prepared her for seeing him half naked and on his knees with his face hovering over her mound. God help her, the man was killing her.

He blew his hot breath across her center and gazed up at her. "I've been dreaming about tasting you."

A high-pitched sound escaped her lips before she could stop it. Knowing what was about to happen had her shifting her body, clenching the sheets, struggling for air. She watched hazily as he traced his fingers down her stomach. Then he hit home. Clarke let out a startled moan as his tongue began to circle her swollen clit. She arched her back, and his arm slid across her stomach, pinning her down with his free hand, while the other fucked her, his fingers curling against her core.

With only a few strokes of his tongue, an orgasm ripped through her like a tidal wave of pleasure. Pure, wild, carnal satisfaction. Bellamy Blake had been worth the wait.

His laughter brought her from the sex haze. "What's so funny?"

"What you said."

"I didn't say anything."

"Oh yeah, you did. I have a feeling you're the only one to say sweet baby Jesus in the manger when you come."

Her face reddened. "Well, that's embarrassing, and it's kind of killed the mood."

Bellamy nuzzled in the crook of her neck. "Just give me a minute. I'll get you going again." He didn't waste time making that happen. Kissed her slow and deep, letting his tongue play with hers. God, she loved those open mouth kisses, and he'd perfected his.

He deepened the kiss and slipped his hand between her legs, making lazy circles over her sweet spot.

Taking in short gulps of air, she struggled to get the words out. "That—feels—good."

"You're so wet."

She unclenched the sheet and forced her hand between their bodies, then circled his erection. "Enough foreplay."

"I'd think for someone who's already had one orgasm, you'd be more patient."

"I'll work on that—later."

He put his mouth back to her breast and gently sucked. She closed her eyes. He knew what that did to her—a new rush of heat spread south.

* * *

 **Boom chicka wow wow. It's a short chapter, I know, sorry.**

 **How did yall like the last episode? Poor Clarke, she's been talking to this version of Bellamy for six years and now this older version is in front of her and she doesn't know how to work with that. And is it just me, or does Diyoza totally wanna bone Marcus? maybe I'm reading too much into it.**

 **ANYWAAAAY, thanks to everyone whose read and left comments. You guys rock.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Warning: some mature themes**

* * *

He took over, eased into her, and made himself at home. Her fingers dug into his hips, forcing him deeper. For the last month, he'd fantasized about this, but no amount of imagination came close to reality. Silky wet, hot, and giving. So damn giving. She moved with him in perfect sync. No holding back. Her body melded to his like she'd been made for him.

The way she gripped him had him fighting to keep control. With each thrust, she tightened her muscles around him bringing him closer to the edge. He didn't want it to end. Hell, he wanted to stay inside her forever.

Then her body tensed and he knew she was almost there. "Open your eyes and look at me." He needed that. Needed for her to see it was him giving her pleasure and not some figment of her amnesia. Maybe she didn't remember the guy in Atlanta, but Bellamy didn't want to take any chances.

He stretched out long and lean, pushed high into her, and her cheeks flushed as she met his gaze. Eyes dark with desire, she puffed quick, shallow breaths. Caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and came undone.

Bellamy couldn't fight it anymore. Her soft whisper of his name caused him to let go. Pleasure drained from him. And when he was empty, still struggling to breathe, he rolled off her and tried to gather his wits. There at the end, pounding into her, everything had faded away. Everything but her, and how she felt under him. Around him.

"Wow," she said, calm and collected. "Has it always been this good between us?"

"Always." Not a lie. But withholding the truth, made it come close. Deceit stabbed his gut. He should tell her. And he would. But not now. Not tonight when his life was perfect.

"I don't know how I could forget such great sex. You are—amazing."

He rolled up on an elbow. "I just need to know one thing. Did I give you asthma?" Then he laughed.

She turned to face him. "You've been saving that, haven't you?"

He grinned and nipped at her jaw. "Yep."

She shoved him to his back, straddled him, and pinned his hands above his head. "Asthma doesn't begin to describe what you do to me."

"Good to know since I've been out of practice." Oh, shit. That was the wrong thing to say. His brain scrambled.

"What do you mean, out of practice?" Clarke quirked an eyebrow.

"Until tonight, it'd been awhile."

She nodded. "Oh yeah. The no-sex rule."

He sighed. Dodged another bullet.

"About that. You're different."

"How?"

"Since I got out of the hospital, you've been distant. Brooding. But that's changed. Maybe it was the trip to New Jersey. I don't know, but something happened."

"Brooding? Really?"

"Maybe that's the wrong word. You've been so serious. But tonight, your mood is different."

"Babe, I got laid. Twice. If that won't lift my spirits, nothing will."

She released his hands, slid her palms to his shoulders and rested her head on his chest. "I have a lot to tell you about my new job."

He stroked his fingers down her spine and up again. "I want to hear all of it, but can it wait until morning? I'm exhausted."

"Yeah, it can wait." She slid off his body.

He turned to his side and tugged on her hip till she rolled toward him. His arm found its place under her shoulder and her cheek found the nook at his collar bone. He kissed the top of her head and hugged her close. A minute later, his breath was long, and his chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm.

The next morning, Bellamy woke with a start and found Clarke sitting cross-legged, staring at him.

"Who's Roma? Someone you met in New Jersey? Did you sleep with her?"

He slid a thumb and forefinger from the corner of his eyes, ending with a pinch to his nose, trying to clear the fog from his head. "What?"

Clarke swallowed hard, and her lip quivered. "Please don't lie. If there's someone else, just say so."

"I'd never do that. How do you know about Roma?"

"You said her name in your sleep."

He reached out to her, but she leaned away. "Come here, please." He held out his arms again.

"No. Not until you tell me."

Bellamy hated rehashing the story. He'd been doing that a lot lately. But Clarke deserved to know, and he didn't want his former girlfriend, anyone, or anything to stand between them. The part he'd been playing was already enough. "She was my high school sweetheart. I saw her dad last night at the bar. I don't remember dreaming about her, but I guess he put her in my subconscious somehow."

"Do you still have feelings for her?"

"No. She died a few years ago, but I'd stopped loving her before that. Long story."

"I'd like to hear it."

"Okay." He pushed himself up, propped his pillow behind his back and began. When he finished, Clarke wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry—for everything. Your heartache—and jumping to conclusions. It's just…"

A tear dropped onto his skin. He pushed her away, cupped her chin and lifted it until he could see those beautiful eyes. "What?"

"I'm afraid—all the time. Scared I won't remember my past completely. Terrified I will, and there'll be something I wanted to erase. Maybe I did something terrible, and to forget, I blocked everything."

"No way. You're one of the sweetest, kindest, most thoughtful women I've ever known. Besides, your memory is coming back, and so far, it's all been good." As much as he wanted to encourage her, once she remembered, it would be the end of him.

"Which makes no sense. I should have some bad mixed in, and I don't."

"Well, you have the songs. They let you know you've had plenty of crappy stuff in your life. So, I wouldn't worry."

She sniffed, wiped at her eyes. "And then there's you."

His lungs constricted. Oh, God. Had he said something else in his sleep? Did she know it had started as a sham? Maybe she'd pieced it together. The mess up with the condom last night was a mistake, but he really thought he'd covered the blunder. "What about me?"

"I worry I'll lose you."

Safe for the time being, relief washed over him. "The only way you'll ever lose me is for you to end it. Look at me."

She gazed up into his eyes.

"I love you, Clarke. With every cliché ever written. To the moon and back. Until the end of time. Till the seas run dry, and the sun don't shine. Every ridiculous cheesy line."

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened as if she wanted to speak, but nothing came out. First time he'd ever seen her at a loss for words. "Did you hear me?"

She nodded.

"Are you okay?"

Another nod.

"Then say something."

She closed her mouth, and a funny squeak came from deep in her throat.

"Clarke. You're scaring me. What's wrong?"

Placing a hand on her chest, she took a breath. "You love me."

"Yeah." He frowned. "You're acting like it's a big surprise."

"It's the first time you've said it. I mean, I've said it to you a lot, but you've never said it back."

Guilty as charged because at first, he couldn't believe it. But he didn't want to go back to a life without her. And if he had a chance in hell she'd forgive him, then he needed for her to understand what started as a lie had turned into the real thing. "Well, today, that changes. Now, I need a shower." He raised his brows. "I think you should join me."

She grinned. "Okay. I can tell you all about my job."

"Hmm. Really didn't plan on doing much talking. You know, water noise and all makes it hard to hear."

She glanced down at the tented sheet. "I think you have something hard, all right."

He pulled her in for another kiss then smiled. "You're right. But first, then I want to hear all about it."

* * *

As Clarke dried her hair, she was downright giddy with equal measures of desire and satisfaction. She wasn't sure about her previous life, but one thing was for sure, she loved shower sex. Who was she kidding? She loved sex with Bellamy regardless of the location.

How could she forget anything about him? Those rough hands roaming over her body. Hot lips licking and sucking places that drove her insane. Strong hips and thighs powering him deep inside her.

She flipped the temperature switch from hot to warm, then waved the blow-dryer in front of her. Forget the hair, she needed to cool down before she dragged him back for another round.

As if he'd read her mind, he appeared in the doorway. "Mom called and wanted to know if you'd still have time to help her with the pie contest next week? You know, now that you're a star."

She turned the dryer off and eyed him in the mirror. "You're being funny, right?"

"No. It's a fact. The crowd last night proves it. You're already getting groupies."

She spun around and faced him. "Jealous?"

"Nope. Not as long as I'm the only one giving you asthma."

She snorted and smacked him with the end of her towel.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close and kissed her. "What do you want to do today?"

"Go see your new nephew. I haven't gotten to hold him yet. Then we can swing by your mom's, and I'll get the contest schedule."

An hour later, Clarke held Charlie and inhaled his scent. Nothing smelled or felt better than a baby. The mixture of powder, lotion, and the top of his sweet head pressed against her cheek caused her ovaries to scramble for attention. Bad ovaries.

She shook her head to clear it and glanced at Bellamy. "You want to hold him?"

"I want to teach him to read, but it'll be awhile before that happens." Bellamy reached for the baby and took him. As if second nature, he cradled him, leaned down to kiss his forehead, then looked at Raven. "You look good. Not like you just gave birth."

"Thank you, Bell. I needed that. I feel okay. Just a little tired, but your mom's been here for the last couple of days to help out, so that's good."

Clarke couldn't take her eyes off Bellamy. He looked so relaxed holding the baby. Just as she'd thought, he'd be a great dad. Someday.

Covered in chalk dust, Lina burst into the room. "Uncle Bell, Clarke, come see what I drawed!"

Bellamy handed the baby back to Raven, then he and Clarke followed his niece out the front door to the sidewalk. There in big letters, she'd written Charlie and surrounded it with flowers and leaves.

"That's beautiful," Clarke said.

Bellamy put his arm around the little artist. "You did a great job. And you even know how to spell your brother's name already."

A sharp pain pierced Clarke's temple. She massaged it with her fingers then walked away and took out her cell phone. After punching in the number, she waited for an answer and then launched her attack. "Wells! You are such a jerk! I remember what you did, and it wasn't funny."

"Hey, Clarke. That's great… What exactly are you talking about?"

"You—teaching me to spell my name."

He laughed hard. "Oh, hell, that was funny. I got grounded, but it was worth it."

"It was not funny then, and it isn't funny now."

"Hey. Calm down. Look on the bright side. Another piece of your past has fallen into place. And now that you're a celebrity if people magazine wants to interview me, I have the perfect story to tell. Thanks for the reminder."

"Don't even think about it." She poked the end button on her phone so hard, the tip of her finger tingled.

Bellamy came up behind her. "What was that about?"

She made sure Lina was out of hearing distance. "When I was little, Wells taught me how to spell my name. I was so proud, I wrote it all over the front sidewalk with chalk and called Mom and Dad out to see. There in rainbow colors, I'd written Crap about twenty times."

Bellamy bent over laughing.

She punched his arm. "Not funny!"

"Yeah, it kind of is."

"Men. You're all alike."

Her phone chimed. She started not to accept it, then changed her mind. "What?"

"Did you hang up on me?"

"Yes."

"Well, I wasn't finished talking. I need to tell you something."

"What?"

"I'm proud of you. I know I joke around, but those videos are great. Marcus and I are coming to town to see you perform this week. Abby might come too, but with the new hospital opening…"

"Stop being nice. I can't stay mad at you when you do that."

"Oh, Griff, you know you can't stay mad at me no matter what."

"I can try."

"What about Lincoln? Is he coming?"

"Afraid not. You know he has a thing for Bellamy's little sister, so he figures it's safer to stay away. And there's something else. Looks like his unit might be called to active duty."

"When? For how long? To where?"

"Don't know. He had guard duty last weekend, and there was a rumor circulating about it. If it happens, he could leave anytime. Hold on. Someone's at my door. I'll call you back."

Wells using his pet name for her sparked something, and by the end of the call, more memories flooded Clarke's brain. They were coming faster now, which meant soon she might recall everything. Still, nothing horrible from her past had returned, and maybe Bellamy was right.

With the exception of her father's death and a failed engagement, perhaps she'd led mostly a charmed life. Yet something still nagged at her. Whatever it was, continued to elude her. No matter how hard she tried to bring the feeling from the back of her mind to the forefront, she couldn't make it happen.

* * *

Lincoln pushed past Wells and spun around. "Did you find out anything about Finn?"

So much, he didn't quite know where to begin. He'd even brought Luna in, because she had a habit of finding out anyway, and his wife could charm anyone. The two of them had happened across Bree while pretending to be newlyweds looking for a new apartment at her complex. Within minutes, the ladies were chatting like old friends. "Maybe. She said she's been seeing a guy named Winston Lennon, but goes by his middle name, Finn. According to her, he's a managing director of a major bank. Didn't give me the name." He paused, considering. "I don't think she knows it. She's got to be in the dark about it, just like Clarke. She's so in love with him, it makes me sick this guy could do this to two decent women. She doesn't know he's fooling around either," Wells pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I checked with the owner of the apartment building, and sure enough, the Lennon guy is on the lease. You think Finn's using an alias?"

Lincoln ran his hand down his jaw. This was stranger than he first thought. Finn had told Clarke he had his own investment firm. "Why would he do that?"

"I don't know."

"Think. What reason does a man have to use different names with two women?"

Wells cocked his head. "Usually, to keep them from finding out he's married, or to swindle them out of money. Bree doesn't seem to have any, and we know Clarke doesn't. So, you think Finn's got a wife?" Wells stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

Lincoln narrowed his eyes. "There's more to Finn than we first thought. I believe it's time to bring Marcus in."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. He has the resources to investigate Finn—or Winston—or whatever the hell his name is. You know. He's a criminal attorney. No doubt he'll find out what's going on with the financial wizard."

On the way back to his office, Lincoln thought of different scenarios concerning the new information. His best bet was that Finn was married and all the out of town trips had to do with a wife and not business as he'd claimed. But three women? Damn, that was a lot to juggle. And, it stood to reason, if he'd used a different name with Bree, Finn probably wasn't his real name either. Three women. Three names. He'd have to give him kudos in organizational skills. Keeping track of schedules, aliases, and careers had to be confusing. Guys like that had to have a mental disorder. Sociopath? Narcissist? Lincoln wasn't sure. All he knew was the guy had been lying to Clarke, and he intended to put a stop to it.

* * *

 **THANK you to everyone thats left comments. I love validation lol. You make my day.**

 **Sucks there's no new episode tonight.**

 **OKAY, I'm gunna stop talking and post this before the Alberto storm coming down outside inevitably knocks out my power. Hope you guys enjoy x**


	22. Chapter 22

All the way to Aurora's house, Clarke's brain went to battle. Should she tell Octavia about the chance Lincoln might be called to active duty? On the one hand, if she did, Octavia would want to see him. On the other, given Bellamy's disapproval, he'd rather Lincoln go quietly into the night—or another country. Really didn't matter just as long as he was away from Octavia.

Clarke reasoned if the situation was reversed, she'd want a chance to say goodbye. No doubt Octavia cared for Lincoln even though they didn't seem to have a relationship. But that was only because of distance and Bellamy.

A love affair with his little sister might be more dangerous than military combat.

Even though she'd not brought it up, Clarke planned a trip to Atlanta to empty her apartment and bring more things to Arkadia. Regardless of getting her memory back or not, she didn't plan to return to the city. This was her home now, and with her new job, there was really no reason to leave.

Other than her bedroom furniture and a couple of other pieces she remembered, there wasn't much of her furnishings she wanted. Still, she needed to take stock of what she wanted to keep, then Wells and Lincoln could have first choice. What they didn't take, she'd donate or host a yard sale.

After the pie contest, she'd head to Georgia. Since her next performance wasn't until the following Thursday, she'd have plenty of time to make arrangements. With her lease ending January First, there was no better time than the present. Everything was falling into place, and that made Clarke nervous. Her life couldn't be this perfect. Nobodies could. There had to be a storm cloud somewhere. She felt it. In her bones. Heart. Soul. Had she always been this way? Borrowing trouble? A half-empty cup sort of girl unable to enjoy good fortune? Or, was there reason for gloom and doom? Something so terrible from her past that once discovered, everything would be taken away. The thought caused her to shudder.

As Bellamy brought his truck to a halt in his mom's driveway, he turned to Clarke. "What's wrong? You've barely said anything since we left Raven's."

She faced him. "My life is so great, I just keep thinking I'm going to remember something that will ruin it."

"Like what?"

She looked down and shook her head. "I don't know. It's just a feeling. But surely if my family knew something, they'd tell me—right? And you wouldn't keep anything from me. Would you? Even if it was terrible?"

Bellamy unsnapped his seatbelt, leaned closer, freed hers, then pulled her across the seat into his arms. "You don't have a terrible bone in your body, so there can't be anything bad in your past. The problem is your memory loss."

She gazed up at him. "So, you think fear of the unknown is causing my anxiety?"

He wrapped her in his arms and held her so tight, she could barely breathe.

"Yeah. That scares the shit out of all of us."

* * *

It wasn't the unknown that scared Bellamy. Just the opposite. He knew exactly what would happen once Clarke found that missing piece she was so desperately searching for. His undoing. He'd thought about confessing. Tell her everything. But why? The end result would be the same. He'd kept the secret too long, so revealing the truth now had no meaning. His only salvation was to hope when it happened she loved him so much, she'd be willing to forgive him.

He didn't know Finn. Didn't want to know him. But no way in hell he loved Clarke or he'd shown up here and insisted she go home back to Atlanta. That's what Bellamy would have done. Or any man in love. Hell, he'd fought for Roma even after he'd stopped loving her. So, if Finn loved Clarke, why wouldn't he want the best for her? And that wouldn't be in a town filled with strangers. Maybe she didn't know that, but Finn did. Had to.

Yeah, that same storm cloud gathering in Clarke's head was also building in his. Her boyfriend was due to show up anytime, and the thought made Bellamy sick to his stomach. What if she took one look at him and it all came crashing back? What if everyone was wrong and everything she felt for Bellamy turned out to be displaced affection for Finn?

If that happened, there'd be no use in fighting for her because everything they'd shared had been one monumental lie.

He walked to the back door. Clarke and Octavia had been in deep conversation for the last fifteen minutes. He liked the bond they'd formed. Hell, he loved how his family had accepted Clarke. And more than that, how she'd fit in with little effort.

He spoke over his shoulder. "What do you think they're talking about?"

Mom giggled. "Boys. Body image. Fashion. In that order."

"Really?"

"Um-huh. Just like guys talk about sports, women, jobs, women, women."

He turned to face her. "You think you're funny, don't you?"

"I am funny."

"You think they're talking about me?"

She raised her brows. "What about you?"

"Oh—uh—I don't know."

Her eyes widened. "Lord have mercy."

God, Bellamy hated that response. It meant she knew things he didn't want her to know. No need to lie. He'd never been good at it where she was concerned. She had more power than Wonder Woman's Lasso of Truth.

"Don't say that."

"Oh, I'm saying it all right. Believe me, you're going to need the Almighty's blessing."

Bellamy walked to the bar and slumped onto a stool, then took a deep breath. "I'm in deep shit. It's too late to come clean, and Dick can show up any day now. I can't let her go with him."

She folded her arms over her chest and fixed him with sardonic exasperation. "Don't you mean you can't let her go—period?"

"Yeah. What do you think I should do?"

She raised her eyes to the ceiling, then closed them as if praying.

"Mom? Did you hear me?"

She snapped her head forward, blinked, and placed a hand on her chest. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to bask in the moment of you asking for my advice. It happens so seldom."

"You're a real comedian today. I'm serious. Agreeing to this stupid scheme is the biggest mistake I've ever made. There's no way out. Damned if I do. Damned if I don't."

She side-eyed the girls chatting several feet away, completely ignoring the two of them, before taking a step closer to him, dropping her voice into a heated whisper. "Marcus says Wells saw Finn with another woman. Probably been carrying on with her the whole time Clarke has been recovering. If that's the case, then you have nothing to worry about. Oh, other than you've pretended to be the love of her life, which as it turns out, you are. And the feeling is mutual, right?"

Bellamy's heart hammered so hard he thought he might crack a rib. This was the best and worst news ever. He'd speculated the guy wasn't worthy, but now he had proof.

"Yeah, and how can that be? I've only known her a few weeks."

She fixed him with an exasperated glance, as if he was truly clueless. Maybe he was. "I'm a mom. I know everything. You know Octavia's dad proposed on our second date. Blake men fall hard and fast." He might've only been a Blake in name only, but he had always thought of August Blake as his father.

"Yeah, but you said no."

"I didn't want him to think I was easy."

Bellamy smirked. "He knew it was all an act."

"I know."

* * *

Clarke glanced inside to make sure Bellamy wasn't coming. She'd debated about inviting Octavia to Atlanta, but she'd put the shoe on the other foot for consideration. If there was a chance Bellamy would be leaving for active duty, Clarke would want to know. She'd want to have an opportunity to see him.

"I talked to Wells earlier, and I have something to tell you about Lincoln."

Air whooshed from Octavia's mouth. "Oh, no. He's dating someone, isn't he? I knew it. I knew it. I was stupid to think he'd put his life on hold for me. But I did. That proves he was right all along. I'm a silly high school girl with no idea about relationships."

Clarke pushed her hand out in front of her body. "Stop! That isn't it. There's a good chance his guard unit will be called to active duty. Next Sunday, I plan to move out of my Atlanta apartment and thought you might want to go with me." She checked inside again. Bellamy sat at the end of the bar still talking to his mom. "We'll have to keep it a secret from your brother, but you'll have to get your mom's approval."

Octavia bowed her head, then looked back Clarke. "Where to? For how long?"

"Won't know until the orders come through—if they do. Might not happen. Could be just a rumor."

She loosed a breath. At least there was hope now. "Yes. I want to go."

"Okay. But the deal is, you must ask your mom. I won't lie to her. Bellamy will be furious, but he'll get over it. Your mother, on the other hand, would never forgive me. So—deal?"

Octavia smiled. "Definitely."

The back door opened, and Bellamy focused on Clarke. "You ready to go?"

"Sure." One second sooner, she would have been caught. Talk about luck.

On the way home, Clarke argued with herself about keeping the Atlanta plans from him. She should tell him, but he'd get angry, and she really didn't want to deal with that. Besides, he wasn't the boss of Octavia. Anything concerning her should be decided by her mom.

Clarke would be thankful for the company. She hated traveling alone, not that she ever did. The last trip she'd taken was—she racked her brain for the memory. Oh, it must have been coming here. To Arkadia. To see Bellamy.

She glanced out the window at the passing landscape. Leaning her head against the back of the seat, sunlight flickered through the trees. She loved days like this. A robin's egg sky dotted with puffs of clouds. She closed her eyes and memories flashed through her mind like a movie reel. A picnic in the park. Her first dance in junior high. Shopping for an Easter dress. Her eyes popped open, she grabbed her phone, then punched the number.

Wells answered on the second ring. "Hey, sis-ta. What up?"

"I am so going to kill you! Was it your goal in life to torment me? How could you do that?"

"Okay. A little lost here. Can you be more specific?"

"You cut my hair! Right before Easter! You were a terrible child. Stop laughing!" Clarke glanced at Bellamy, and although he fought it, a smile played at the corner of his lips. Damn men.

"Can't help it. I thought the cut looked just like Tinkerbell without the bun on top. You said that's what you wanted."

"No. I said I wished I could fly like her. Not look like her."

"Oh, yeah. I remember. I misunderstood. Do you recall my punishment?"

"No."

"Dad shaved my head and grounded me. Gave me a whole new perspective. I think that was the last time I pranked you but not Lincoln. Two days later, after I told him it was a bandage, he wore that damn pad wrapped around his arm all day. That was funny!"

"Well, save me the trouble of remembering and tell me how many more horrible things you did to me."

"I think you've hit the highlights. Oh, wait. There was that time in high school when you wanted Sterling to ask you to the Christmas dance."

"Yeah, and I was heartbroken when he didn't. I ended up going with…" Weeks ago Clarke had remembered the details of her failed engagement, and that she'd sworn at the time to never speak their names again. "You know who."

"She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named?"

"Yeah. Her. Anyway, what about Sterling?"

"I threatened to cut off his balls with a dull knife if he tried to date you."

"What! Why did you do that?"

"Because he bet his buddies he could get in your pants."

"Oh." As much as she wanted to stay mad, defending her honor was a good thing. "Thanks. But for your information, he wouldn't have gotten me out of my panties."

Bellamy jerked his head toward her, widened his eyes and mouthed what?

She waved him off and went back to the conversation. "I guess I forgive you for the haircut, but I'm still mad about the name spelling incident."

"Hey. No matter how much of a jerk I was at times, I always had your back. Always will."

"Damn you. Just when I want to slap you silly, you turn sweet."

"Yeah, it's my superpower. Never found a lady yet who can resist it. Luna's proof of that. Gotta go. I'm getting another call."

"Okay. See you Thursday." Clarke ended the call, then looked at Bellamy who still gave her his full attention. "He's something."

"Sounds like. So, he's coming Thursday?"

"Yeah."

"What about Lincoln and Marcus?"

"Just Marcus."

Bellamy's look of relief didn't go unnoticed. She sighed. "I wish you didn't hate Lincoln."

"I don't." He took her hand and held it. "I know he's a good man. I just don't want anything to mess up Octavia's future. She's barely dated, and because of that, she can't understand consequences of getting involved."

"Well—what if he only had a few months to live and all she wanted was to be with him? Then would you approve?"

He jerked his attention to her. "Holy hell. He's not dying, is he?"

"No. I'm saying hypothetically if that were the case, would you be against it?"

"That's not a fair question. It's like asking if she dated him it would cure cancer. With the right scenario, you can alter any answer or situation."

"So, you would be okay with it."

"Well, yeah, if that was the case—which it isn't, so it's a moot point. I don't want her to put her life on hold for anyone."

"So, if she didn't have to change any of her plans, you'd have no objection?"

He let go of her hand and gripped the steering wheel again. "Where's this going? Why are we even discussing this?"

"I'm just trying to be clear about your exact reasons for not wanting my cousin to date your sister. That's all. I mean, if you and I are together, they're going to be a part of our lives, and I don't want your dislike of him to affect us."

"What you mean if you and I are together? Are you saying we might not be if I don't give them my blessing?"

She snorted. "No."

He angled his truck to the shoulder of the road, shoved the gear into park, faced her, and ran his fingers through his hair. "What exactly are we arguing about? I need to know so I can effectively take part."

"We aren't arguing. We're having a discussion."

"Yeah, but is it about Lincoln and Octavia or you and me?"

"All of us."

Releasing his seatbelt, he rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. "Let me see if I've got this straight. Lincoln's not dying. Octavia's future is still in place. You and I are okay. That's everything." He held his hands out, tilted his head, and shrugged. "Right?"

"Correct."

"Can we kiss on it?" He didn't give her time to answer, just pulled her into his arms and smothered with a deep, wet lip lock that had her straining to get closer.

Yep, no doubt about it, she had to keep her traveling companion a secret.

* * *

 **Sorry for the day late chapter. I was babysitting kids yesterday and they are lovable but exhausting. I don't know how parents do it. Ya'll the real MVP's.**

 **As always, thanks to everyone whose read and left comments. You guys are awesome.**

 **New episode tomorrowwwww, finally! I'm excited.**

 **Just a few more chapters and an epilogue left. I can't believe we're already this far in. It goes so fast.**


	23. Chapter 23

Between Clarke's memories returning and her new job, time had gone into hyper speed. She didn't mind shorter days, but once Bellamy got home, she wanted to slow the clock. Most evenings, after she'd had her way with him, he turned in early, which gave her a chance to write. Only one problem. Since deciding to keep secrets, her muse had gone on a permanent vacay. Didn't figure a song about killing a fish or helping a girl sneak around was the kind of material her fans wanted to hear. They were more into done-me-wrong-songs. Hard to write nowadays because Bellamy did her right—in so many ways.

She climbed back onto the stool and cradled her guitar. So far, tonight's crowd had been rowdier than usual. Must be the full moon. She'd not expected Marcus and Wells to stay for every performance, but they'd insisted. Wasn't much of a sacrifice for Wells since women had been buying him drinks all night, even though he kept pointing at his ring finger.

Funny, most of the ladies were here because they'd had failed relationships, but according to how they flocked around Wells, they weren't about to give up on finding love.

Behind the bar, Gustus and Artigas made drinks as fast as they could, but keeping up with the demand proved challenging until Monty showed up and pitched in. He flitted around the room delivering orders of hot wings and brews. Thank goodness Gustus had expert kitchen help.

Clarke looked to where she wanted to perch. On Bellamy. He ambled in, muscles moving beneath the gray Henley, top button undone exposing one of her favorite places to kiss. The hollow of his neck.

When it came time for her break, she disappeared around the corner, she checked to make sure Bellamy headed her way. Didn't take him long to learn the routine. She'd barely gotten in her room when he rushed through the door and hauled her up against his chest and kissed her.

He cupped her ass with both hands. "You didn't wear a skirt tonight."

She backed away. "Sorry. No quickie backstage sex this time."

"And the reason is?"

"I can't do it with Marcus sitting right out there."

"Okay. I can wait until we get home." He searched her eyes and caressed his thumb across her bottom lip. "You alright?"

She nodded. "I'm on pins and needles because of your feelings about Lincoln.."

Walking to stand behind her, Bellamy slipped his arms around her waist and pressed his chest against her back. "I don't want you worrying about Lincoln and me. We'll be fine." Bellamy nuzzled her neck just below her ear. "Just so you know, shower sex might be good for you. I'm just throwing that out for consideration."

She loved when he put his lips on that spot. His warm breath floated across her skin causing goose bumps to pop to the surface. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'll think about it. Now leave before I do something stupid because that's how I get when you whisper in my ear. It's like my brain turns to mush."

He chuckled. "Who would have thought whispering would be a superpower?"

She shoved him back, spun, and faced him. "I don't think I've ever been this happy."

"In that case, I guess your memory loss works in my favor."

"I'm serious, Bellamy. Until you, I don't think my life was so great."

He tilted her chin up and gazed into her eyes. "Sure it was. You have a wonderful family. But—I don't want you to go back—to Atlanta. Ever. I want you to stay here. With me."

Her heart pounded. That sounded like something a guy would say right before he proposed! "Good because I'm going to Atlanta on Sunday to clear out my apartment."

His arm tightened around her and his entire face lit up in a grin. "You are?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you wait until I can go with you? I'll take some vacation days."

She shook her head. This was something she'd have to do for herself, and Bellamy would distract her. "No. I already have Marcus and my family lined up to help. I plan to put a few things in Marcus' storage building to bring later, and what Lincoln or Wells and Luna don't want, I'll donate. When I get back, you'll have your wish. Arkadia will be my permanent home."

Following the show, for the first time, patrons asked for her autograph. That was insane! She didn't consider herself important enough to even have fans, but yet, here they were. At least a dozen flocked around her holding napkins, notepads, and coasters for her to sign in addition to wanting a selfie with her.

She cut her eyes to the end of the bar where Bellamy helped clear the counter. He winked, and her stomach somersaulted. She'd meant what she'd told him. Regardless of lost memories, she knew without a doubt, she'd never been this happy.

* * *

The next morning, her phone dinged and woke her. She picked it up and held it in midair, then focused on the text.

SS. So hot.

She couldn't help but blush. She'd gotten a bit wild during the shower sex. She took a deep breath and texted back. No.

Replay?

What was going on? He never texted during work. Apparently, he'd liked her getting out of control. She responded. Maybe.

Her phone signaled a Facetime call. When Bellamy appeared on screen, he spoke before she could. "Oh, babe, the way you went after me last night tells me which side of maybe your answer falls. I have scratches on my back and bite marks on my shoulder."

Her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, no. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm not. Damn, Clarke. It was fucking fantastic."

"Where are you? You never call during the day."

"About to run a line to a new house." He panned the phone around the area. "It's beautiful out here. The builder plans to construct more houses. Big lots. Restricted neighborhood. Maybe we can build..."

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Did he almost say they might have a house there? "Bellamy?"

He didn't give her time to say anything else. "I can't stop thinking about you."

"Bellamy, what you said about building…"

"Sorry. Miller's is ready for me. Gotta go. Love you."

"Yeah. Love you too," she said, but he was already gone. She fell back onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling. Yep, any day now he was going to pop the question. She closed her eyes and thought of wedding dresses. Something lacey. Form-fitting. But before she could imagine standing at the altar, her phone chimed again. This time, Wells.

"Hey, sis. Just wanted you to know, Lincoln got orders."

She bolted upright. Tears pricked her eyes. "Oh, no. When does he leave?"

"In a couple of days."

"Where to?"

"If he knows, he's not saying. He's pretty bummed."

"Me, too."

"Yeah, we all are."

Clarke wiped at her cheeks. She'd just remembered Lincoln, and now he was leaving. Life was unfair. "Thanks for letting me know."

"Sure. See you tonight."

After hanging up, she called Octavia and broke the news. She'd taken it better than Clarke anticipated. But now, her future sister-in-law was more determined than ever to go to Atlanta. Clarke collapsed back onto the bed. She'd not even gotten up yet, and already she'd been turned on, gotten bad news, and planned an undercover mission. Damn. Her life was just one big soap opera.

But even soap stars had to do laundry, so she got out of bed and headed that way. Rebel met her with a big lick to the face. She let him out to the backyard, started a load of clothes, then returned to the bedroom.

It didn't take long to get dressed, the bed made, the kitchen straight, and the first load of clothes in the dryer. She put Rebel on his leash, then took off in a trot trying to keep up with him. As she ran, she thought about her schedule. From her classified ad, she'd gotten two calls about piano lessons. After the first of the year, she'd start with those students. Raven had expressed interest in Lina taking lessons, so she'd add her to the list.

Tuesdays and Wednesdays would be for instruction, then Thursdays and Fridays she'd perform at The Bunker. Gustus had mentioned adding a Saturday night performance, and she was considering it. She couldn't help but wonder when her flash in the pan would end because it surely would. In such a small town, wouldn't be long until every citizen had seen her. After that, who knew? She couldn't imagine the same folks coming back time after time to hear the same material. She only hoped some of the interviews and articles expanded her audience.

After her morning walk, she made a quick trip to the grocery store. She needed to use every weapon in her female arsenal to get Bellamy to bend a knee. With all the hints he'd been dropping, it shouldn't take much. Candlelight. Mood music. Good food. Mind-blowing sex. Not necessarily in that order. If he was already thinking about last night, she might have to move the sex to the front of the line. Fine by her. She had something special in mind.

She spent the afternoon cooking and baking. Even though she wasn't a contestant, she was nervous. Tomorrow was the day and winning meant so much to his mother.

By six o'clock, Clarke had everything in place for an evening of romance. When Bellamy pulled into the garage, she ran her fingers through her hair one last time, straightened her sweater, and busied herself in the kitchen not to look anxious.

He opened the door, stopped in his tracks, smiled, then inhaled a deep breath. "Hmm. Something smells good."

She looked up and fluttered her lashes. "Uh-huh."

He laughed at her dramatic display, then his attention went to the living room. "You built a fire?"

"Uh-huh."

He craned his neck. "There's a mattress on the floor."

"Uh-huh."

"Is uh-huh all you can say?"

"Uh-huh."

He grinned. "You want to fuck?"

"Uh-huh."

"Damn, you wicked woman. You're tearing me apart. But you know that, don't you?"

"Uh-huh."

He rushed to her, placed his fingertips below her chin, and kissed her. Then he stepped back. "I need a shower first. Been fantasizing about you taking one with me, but you look so hot, I guess that's not going to happen."

"Nope. I have other plans for you."

"Then I better hurry. Be back in ten minutes." He spun around and sprinted down the hallway.

* * *

Bellamy didn't know what was about to happen and he didn't care. He just followed her instructions to lie naked on the mattress. Whatever it was, she needed to get on with it because he was already so hard his cock could cut a diamond.

She'd stripped from the waist up but left on her jeans. God, he loved her tits. The shape. The size. The nipples. Especially when they got hard and looked like his favorite flavor of gumdrops. Passionfruit. He cupped her breasts, letting the weight rest in his hands. Then he squeezed them together and moved his mouth back and forth between the two, sucking and licking until she made him stop.

"My turn," she said. She produced a bowl from behind her, reached in and brought out an ice cube and held it to her mouth.

"What are going to do with that?" Not that he cared. Hell, she could do whatever she wanted. Watching her cheeks sink in with each pull on the cube had him about to explode.

She dropped the ice back into the bowl, leaned low and circled his nipple with her cold tongue. He writhed and moaned. God help him. From there, she moved to the hollow of his neck. She loved that spot because they never made love that she didn't give it plenty of attention. Feathering her fingertips to his chin, she pulled it forward, then sucked his bottom lip into her mouth flicking it back and forth with her tongue.

Holy hell, blood raced through his veins spreading liquid heat to every nerve ending. While her mouth worked his lip, she placed a hand on his testicles and ran a finger back and forth over the seam, then settled her knuckles behind them and gently kneaded. His nuts drew high and tight. So fucking tight he thought they'd rip the sac. "Oh, sugar. Careful, but that's good." His eyes rolled back in his head and just when he thought he couldn't stand anymore, she stopped and pulled away.

His eyes popped open. She rested her thighs on her calves, reached beneath the mattress and retrieved a tube of lubricant. No need to ask about it. So far, she'd not been too big on conversation. He'd just wait it out. She flipped open the cap and squeezed the gel into her palm, then rubbed her hands together.

Clasping his hard shaft like a baseball bat, she leaned low, licked the tip, then circled the crown with her tongue. Around and around. Over and over. While at the same time stroking him with those slick fingers. Slowly at first, then faster. Slow again. Fast. Slow. Fast. Slow. Working him into a frenzy. Every time his climax started to build, she eased her stroke. Exquisite torture. She knew what she was doing. He gasped for breath, and as fast as his heart pounded, it might be his last. Didn't care. He couldn't think of a better way to die than being jacked and blown at the same time. His body stiffened. He clutched the sheets and lifted off the bed as he erupted. She didn't flinch. Held her ground and sucked him until he was dry. Talk about nirvana. He was pretty sure he'd gotten a glimpse of the Pearly Gates.

Hell, she'd put some thought into this. The mattress. Ice. Lube.

"Sweet Jesus. What have you done to me?"

She rocked forward and rested her head on his chest. "You've heard of the Seven Wonders of the World? I just located your seven wondrous erogenous zones."

Damn, he loved how her breasts nestled against him. So soft and warm. "I think I came close to dying."

She giggled. "If you weren't in such good physical condition, I would have stopped at number four. But I was pretty sure you'd survive them all."

"Pretty sure?"

"Yeah. It was a risk I was willing to take. And—I think it paid off. You seemed to enjoy it."

He laughed. "Not sure enjoy is the right verb."

She patted his shoulder. "Are you ready to eat?"

"Babe, not sure I'm able to move. I'm in sex shock. I haven't had this much action in a hell of a long time." His chest tightened. Another mistake. Now she'd have questions.

Lifting her head to look at him, she narrowed her eyes. "I thought you said sex had always been good between us."

Even though his arms were like lead, he mustered enough energy to lift one and trailed his fingers down her spine. "It has. I just meant you've never done anything like this before." God, he needed to confess, but she made him feel things he'd not felt in years. Until her, he didn't realize how lonely he'd been. How hungry for a woman's touch. Not just any woman. One who wanted more than a good time. Wanted him more than anything or anyone.

"I didn't think so. But I found another article about giving a man the most pleasure and figured I'd put it to the test. I need to subscribe to that magazine. Everything I've tried has worked. Tonight, and the phone sex. I should write and let them know, or at least go comment on their blog."

He laughed so hard, she bounced against him. "You crack me up. I'm basking in afterglow, and you're thinking about the internet."

She pushed off him and smirked. "Remember. Only one of us had an orgasm."

"I can fix that. Not right this minute—but later."

She picked up her sweater and pulled it over her head. "I may hold you to that." Then she stopped and stared at him. Took her bottom lip between her teeth, and damn if her nipples didn't form gumdrops again.

He eyed the sweater. "You're turned on again?"

"I love looking at you. You're the hottest man I've ever seen."

And just like that, he got hard. With energy he didn't think possible, he jumped to his feet and grabbed her hand. "Come on. We're taking a shower."

* * *

The next morning when Clarke woke, she was alone in bed but heard Bellamy in the kitchen. Which meant, it had to be early. Glancing at the clock, she gasped. Five a.m. He'd be leaving soon. She jumped to her feet, ran to the bathroom to take care of business, then grabbed her cell phone from the bedside table. On his pillow lay a note. She picked it up, read, and laughed.

You're my favorite thing to do.

As she scurried down the hall, the back door opened, and Bellamy yelled.

"Rebel! What are you doing, boy?"

She rounded the corner to find Bellamy standing in the open doorway gazing into the backyard.

"What's going on?"

"Oh, hey. Sorry if I woke you. Hand me that flashlight."

She took it to him. "I woke on my own. What's wrong?"

Bellamy aimed the beam toward the tree. "I don't know. Rebel's digging. I better see what it is."

Before she could say anything, he was out the door. She peered into the darkness. Oh, God. Rebel was digging in the fish cemetery! "It's probably nothing! Just leave him alone. Come back in the house. It's almost time for you to leave for work. I'll take care of the hole later."

Bellamy didn't answer. Just squatted next to the dog and poked around in the dirt for a second. Then he rose to his full height and studied whatever he'd picked up.

Clarke's heart sank. She'd been stupid to think she'd get away with murder. No one ever did. Sooner or later they got caught. Every time. Someone blabbed. A video came to light. Or the family dog dug up the body.

She backed away from the door and leaned on the counter for support.

Bellamy came inside and dangled the baggie in midair. "Look at this. Have any idea what it is?"

Was he baiting her? Trying to get a confession?

His voice startled her. "Whatever it was, it's mush now. But, it's in a baggie, so it has to be something. But how did it get under the tree? Buried."

She tried to speak, but her mouth had gone dry.

"Clarke? Got any ideas?"

She slumped down onto a stool, crossed her hands over her chest, and began to rant. "I did it. I killed him. I didn't mean to. It was an accident. I swear it was."

She waved her hand in the air. "Thomas assured me this happened all the time. He said just replace it, and everything would be fine. I mean it wasn't like I killed Rebel. He'd be impossible to replace. I mean, you have a bond with him. I have a bond. He's a real pet. I know you shouldn't forgive me, but I really need you to. I'm glad you know the truth. The guilt has been a real burden."

He didn't say anything, just stood there staring.

"Bellamy?"

He cocked his head. "Who's Thomas?"

"The guy who works at the pet store. Do you understand what I'm saying? I killed Alpheus. But it was in the best possible way. Not from neglect but being too good at taking care of him. I fed him too much. I thought he was hungry. You trusted me, and I let you down. I feel terrible about that. But in my defense, I've never had a fish, and the directions on that food are prit-tee vague."

She braced for his wrath. Maybe she should mention last night. Sex in front of the fireplace. In the shower. Yeah, that would be her defense. Didn't have anything to do with Alf's death or her keeping it a secret, but it would remind Bellamy she was his favorite thing to do.

"Say something."

He glanced over her shoulder at the fish tank and pointed. "So—he's…"

"Alpheus number two."

Then he held up the bag again. "Alpheus number one?"

She twisted her mouth around and nodded. "Are you mad? I mean, you have every right to be. Not only did I kill your fish, I kept it from you. Mostly because I didn't want to break your heart, but also because I didn't want you to get angry." She wagged her head, then shrugged. "Well—if I'm honest, probably more about the angry part than the heartbreak."

He grinned. "I should really let you suffer a bit more because you're so damn cute when you think you're in trouble, but I can't do it. I'm not mad. Hell, I didn't even buy Alpheus. Won him for Lina at the local fair pitching quarters, then Raven wouldn't let her have it. Said she wasn't old enough for that much responsibility. Would probably kill the thing right off the bat. And she didn't want to be constantly replacing it to keep from upsetting her. Hell, I thought he'd be dead months ago."

She threw her arms around him. "Thank you."

"Besides, without an autopsy, we can't be sure you committed a crime. I'm afraid there isn't enough left of him for that."

She pinched his butt. "Now you're making fun of me."

He grinned. "Little bit."

She tiptoed and kissed him. "You better get to work."

"Yeah. You going to the pie bake-off?"

"Yes. I'm headed to your mom's as soon as I get dressed. I'm nervous about it."

"Don't be. If she's entering the recipe you made last night, she'll win." He kissed her again. "Text and let me know how it goes."

"I will." She followed him to the garage. As he got in the truck, she yelled. "You're my favorite thing to do, too!" Then she blew him a kiss, and he was gone.

* * *

Octavia had a dozen other things she should be thinking about, but since getting the news of Lincoln leaving, he consumed all of her brain space. She desperately wanted to see him, but Clarke wouldn't let her go to Atlanta without Mom's blessing. Octavia wasn't sure she could get it but needed to have the problem solved before Clarke arrived to help with the contest.

She squared her shoulders. Took a deep breath. Walked to the kitchen where mom stood elbow deep in ingredients.

"Mom, I need to talk to you about something."

"I'm swamped right now, so let me help cut this conversation short. I know Clarke is going to Atlanta tomorrow. I know Lincoln is leaving. I imagine you want to go with her. Right?"

Octavia's stomach sank. She should have known Mr. Kane shared the news. "Please. Before you say no, consider he may be gone a long time. I know you, and everyone else thinks I have a silly crush. But it's more than that. It really is. I know it in my heart."

Tears welled, and her throat tightened. The thought of not seeing him was too much. No one knew where he was going or when he'd come back, and that frightened her. She'd never defied her mother, but to see Lincoln, she just might.

Mom looked up, wiped her hands on a dish towel, then put her arms around Octavia. "Oh, honey. Don't cry. I knew you'd ask. At least, I hoped you did instead of sneaking away, so I thought a lot about this last night." She stepped away but kept her eyes on Octavia. "As much as you hate what your brother has to say about Lincoln, he's right. You have your whole life ahead of you. One mistake can change the course of your future. You're a smart girl, and I know you understand that. But love makes us careless sometimes."

Octavia's heart sank. The moral summary laid the groundwork for a refusal. Her lip quivered. She tried to fight the tears, but they came anyway. Maybe if she called Lincoln, he'd come here. Regardless of what he'd said in the past, he wanted to see her. Had too. Even if he wouldn't admit his feelings, she knew they were there. She saw it in his eyes. Felt it in his kiss. And she didn't care what he or anyone else said, it was more than lust. Her mother's voice brought her from her misery.

"What did you say?"

Mom smiled. "I said, promise me you won't be careless."

Octavia threw her body against her mother's and hugged her with all the strength she had. "Oh, Momma. Thank you. Thank you. I promise. What if he never comes back? What will I do?' Then she sobbed into her mother's chest.

Mom held her tighter. "You have to be strong, sweetie. Not just for you, but for him. He's afraid. Probably won't ever admit it, but he is. The bravest of men are. So cry it all out here, and not in front of him."

The comfort of her mother's arms helped calm Octavia, just as they always did. Then she shuddered. "We can't tell Bell. He hates Lincoln, and he'll be mad at me for going."

Mom stroked her back. "You let me worry about your brother. Now, go wash your face and finish getting dressed. I'm going to need your help as well as Clarke's to win this contest."

Octavia practically skipped to her room. Tomorrow she'd see Lincoln. The thought made her insides do funny things. After thinking about it all night, she'd decided. About sex.

She splashed water on her face and stared into the mirror. She was just about the last virgin in her class. Sure, she'd had plenty of opportunities to change that, but she'd wanted to save herself for something that mattered. Someone who cared for her. Not just wanted to get in her pants. She'd known Lincoln was the one from the moment she met him.

She dried her face, pulled on her jeans, then the tee-shirt she'd bought for the event, which said, Get your pie on. She'd also bought one for Clarke. Pie fixes everything. Man, if that only worked. She could bake one for Lincoln. Yeah, she loved him. It wasn't just his looks because Lord knew, he was gorgeous. It was more than that. His actions proved his worth. He measured up to Dad in every way, and that's probably why Mom gave her blessing. She saw that in him, and she was an expert on good men. Married one. Raised one. And now dated one. Even Bellamy couldn't argue with that.

Later, as Octavia, Clarke, and Mom loaded the car, Octavia could tell her mother was nervous. This contest meant the world to her, and if she didn't regain her title, Octavia knew how disappointed she'd be. Maybe enough to give up baking, or at least entering next year's competition. She'd always enjoyed baking, but once Dad died, it had become her salvation. Finding crazy combinations and coming up with original recipes helped keep her mind off his fate—and hers. Being without the man, she'd loved and depended on. The memory made Octavia miss Dad even more. She wondered what he'd think of Lincoln.

The high school provided the location for the bake-off. Their culinary arts cottage offered a dozen ovens. Mom still called the course Home Ec, but that title had disappeared a long time ago. The modern curriculum no longer offered sewing and housekeeping but concentrated on instruction for students who might want a career in food service.

While Mom checked in with the judges, Octavia talked to Clarke. "What time do you want to leave tomorrow?"

"I'd like to get an early start. I told Marcus I'd call when I left, that way he and Wells will know what time to meet me at the apartment. Bellamy leaves about five-thirty, so I'll be ready to go by seven. That will put you at Lincoln's house about ten-thirty. Is that okay?"

She wrung her hands together. "Yes. Should I let him know I'm coming?"

Clarke shook her head and grinned. "Let it be a surprise."

Octavia pulled her brows together. She didn't want to set herself up for heartbreak. "But what if he has someone there?"

"You mean a woman?"

"Uh-huh."

"I don't think there's any danger of that. Wells said he hasn't been seeing anybody for a while now, and I remember he's not a one-night stand sort of guy."

"You remember?"

"Yeah. A lot of memories from my childhood, high school, and college have returned, but I still have some blank spots. Mostly about the people I've dated. I think I've blocked those out because, until Bellamy, those people in my life were total dicks. But at some point, I'll remember them too. I just have to be patient."

Mom rushed to them with hands on hips. "Can you believe it? They put Jackie Vie and me right next to one another. She's already looking at me like she has this in the bag."

Octavia slipped her arm around Mom's shoulders. It was her turn to provide comfort. "You've got this. At Thanksgiving, there wasn't one person who didn't love the S'mores Chocolate-Coconut Pie. No way Mrs. Vie can top it."

"I hope you're right. If she wins again, I'll revolt."

Clarke grabbed the hem of her shirt and stretched out the fabric. "Like my shirt says, get your pie on. Let's set up your work area so you can get to baking and kick her butt!"

At four o'clock, judges made their final round scoring the entries. Even though Mom was so nervous she'd had to take antacids, Octavia had no doubt she'd win. She'd paid close attention to the judge's expressions as they'd sampled. When Mayor Sydney had tasted Mom's, she looked as if she'd just won a shopping spree. Reverend Harrison had raised his eyes to heaven, and culinary arts instructor, Elaine Miller, had placed her hand on her chest as if her heart might explode. None of the other entries brought the same reactions.

The mayor picked up the microphone and tapped it. "Is this working? Can you hear me?"

A rumble of answers came from the small audience.

"Good. We've made our decision, and as always, it was difficult. Arkadia has some of the best bakers in the state, and because of that, we are proud to offer the winner an extra prize this year. In addition to the cash prize, the Arkadia Main Street committee is granting an all-expense paid trip to the State Fair of Alabama Bake Off next October in order for you to enter the state competition!"

She waited for the applause to die down, then added the details. "You'll stay in the fabulous 5-star The Mansion on Shadow Valley where you'll enjoy all-inclusive accommodations for 5 days and 4 nights for you and a guest, including all meals, premium spirits, gourmet dining, roundtrip transfers from the fairgrounds, one spa treatment per day, per person, and this prize also includes all tips and gratuities."

The crowd went wild, hooting, hollering and clapping. Mayor Sydney raised her hand to quiet the excitement. "And, that's not all. Should our Arkadia contestant win the state competition, The Mansion's executive chef will add her recipe to the menu for one year, with attribution. Just another way of putting our small town on the map!"

Again, applause erupted.

The mayor waved her hand in the air. "Now, for the moment we've been waiting for. In third place—Dana Whitten's Cinnamon Roll Pear Pie! The cinnamon roll crust is the main reason we liked this recipe. And if that wasn't enough, add in the spiced pears, topped with icing made it super delicious."

Octavia's heart hammered. What if she was wrong and her mother didn't win? No, not possible. She nudged Clarke. "I'm so nervous."

"Me, too. I'm going to Facetime Bellamy so he can watch. I hope he's where he can use his phone."

The mayor cleared her throat. "The first and second place winners came down to two of our previous champions. A testament to the talent we have. Jackie Vie and Aurora Blake? If you'll step forward, please. One of you is our Arkadia Baking Winner."

Octavia grabbed Clarke's hand. Please, Lord. Let Mom win.

Clarke showed the phone screen, where Bellamy stood inside a truck bucket.

The mayor continued, "Let me explain why these two ladies made it to the final. First, Jackie's Pecan-Date Pie. The addition of the dates to this classic recipe gave the filling a natural texture. More organic. She also used a golden syrup in place of corn syrup which added to the flavor, and it just took our breath away."

However, equally delicious was Aurora's S'mores Chocolate-Pumpkin pie with the cereal crust. The blending of the two flavors enhanced by the crunch of the crust was just pure heaven. This by far has been our most challenging competition."

She looked to the Reverend. "Drum roll please." He pounded his palms on the table top.

"This year's Bake-off winner is—Aurora Blake!"

Octavia pounded her fist in the air as Aurora moved to accept her award. "Suck it, Vie!" she shouted, throwing her arms around a grinning Clarke as Octavia's mother shot her a chastising look from the stage. Bellamy's whoops of applause could be heard from the phone grasped in her first.

The local newspaper reporter snapped photos, then ushered the winners back to the baking area.

Octavia and Clarke crowded together to look at the phone.

Bellamy wiped his forehead. "Whew! That was close. Tell Mom congratulations and save me some pie." His attention turned to something off-screen. "Gotta go. Bye, babe."

Octavia smiled at Clarke. "He's so in love you. I wish Lincoln called me sweet names."

Clarke sighed. "Yeah, well once your brother finds out I've taken you to Atlanta, he may not love me so much."

* * *

 **Clarke's been outed as a fish serial killer, and Aurora wins the bakeoff. Ta-da!**

 **How about that episode? I'm pretending the bit didn't happen and Clarke and Bellamy sat by the fire and talked about the past six years. Sucks we have to wait a two week span again.**

 **Thank you to the people who leave comments, it's super motivating (and we all love validation!)**


	24. Chapter 24

**Warning** , Mature themes

* * *

Lincoln sat on the end of the bed and stared at his duffle bag. Even though he'd always known he might be called to active duty, he'd never given much thought to how it would feel. Well, it was real now. Too real. The orders were vague. Report on Monday. Ship out Tuesday. Plan to be gone at least six months. Maybe longer. No guarantee.

He'd heard his unit wasn't the only one activated. If that was the case, then maybe this mission was a rescue. Get in with enough force to make a snatch and whisk, then head home. Although he tried to look on the bright side, something twisted in his gut. It wasn't from lack of skill. Hell, the weekends he'd spent on base were just more of the same intense boot camp he'd gone through when he joined. Everything from hand-to-hand combat to chemical warfare training.

Regardless of what the future held, this was his last night in Atlanta, so he should make the best of it. Get drunk—or laid. God knew it'd been a while since he'd done either. Just two problems. He didn't want to report hungover, and the only woman he wanted was off-limits and three hours away. The last few weeks he'd had to fight his urge to see Octavia and keep from going to Arkadia. He'd even skipped Clarke's new gig to avoid temptation. But now that he was about to be somewhere else in the world, avoiding the object of his desire was a no-brainer. Yeah, God worked in mysterious ways. He knew Lincoln got weaker by the day and no way in hell he'd ever be able to wait until she graduated to see her again. A clear sign to steer clear of her.

He wondered if she knew he was leaving. Given Marcus' interest in Aurora, probably. And Clarke might have passed along the information. Didn't matter. Octavia hadn't called, so maybe she was over her schoolgirl crush. That was a good thing. He should be thankful she had come to her senses. Maybe in a few years if she wasn't involved with someone, then Lincoln would give her a call. Yeah. Right.

He took a deep breath. That was a crock of shit. She might be younger than anyone he'd dated, but he'd had a connection with her he'd never felt before. And now, it was over. Or would be by the time he got back to the states. She'd be in college and have a line of interested guys a mile long. Beautiful girls like her didn't stay on the market. The only reason she wasn't already taken was that Arkadia had few choices.

He shook the thought away. Getting drunk sounded better and better. He'd call Wells. He was always up for talking people off a ledge. Besides, Lincoln needed to impress upon him to be diligent about the business. In the last few months, the agency had seen measurable growth, Wells was known to take care of business second to his family. Commendable, yes. But still.

He thought back to Arkadia. Alabama was a Den of Sin for the Clan. Clarke and Bellamy. Marcus and Aurora. Octavia. Maybe there was something in the water. Well, time would take care of all of it. Clarke would get her memory back and come home. Marcus would realize the distance was too much for a relationship. And Octavia. Well, as soon as she got to college, she'd discover a world of new possibilities.

Damn, it always came back to her. Lincoln wanted to kick himself. He should have never kissed her. Until then, he'd been able to rein in his desire, but once he had a taste of her, lust raged. Every spare moment, she filled his head. And since getting his orders, he'd wanted to see her. Hold her. Kiss her. And so much more.

He pressed his hand to his crotch. Damn, he was getting a boner. Needed to stop thinking about her and more about the turn of events in his life. In two days, he might be half-way around the world faced with dangers he could only imagine. He wouldn't have time to think of her or anyone else. If the sinking feeling in his gut was any indication, he'd be focused on survival.

He strolled into the bathroom and gathered everything he'd need to get ready. Easier to operate out of the bag in the morning than waiting until the last minute to pack them. Just as he dropped his toothbrush into the leather travel kit, the doorbell rang.

He wasn't expecting anyone, but he figured Marcus would show up at some point to say their goodbyes. Last night's dinner with Wells, Luna, and Kai covered his farewell with them. He grabbed his shirt from the chair, slipped it on, but didn't button it. If it was one of his buddies wanting to go out, then Lincoln would oblige. No need to sit at home all night having a pity party alone.

He put his eye to the peephole but saw nothing but darkness. He squared his shoulders, swung the door open, and breath caught in the back of his throat.

"Hi, Lincoln," Octavia said.

Cast in golden glow by the setting sun, she looked like an angel come to life. Honest to God, the shadow playing at her back gave the illusion of wings. Lincoln swallowed hard and found his voice. "What are you doing here?"

She smiled, stepped past him, closed the door, then turned around. "Did you think I'd let you leave without saying goodbye?"

Was she real? Had he hallucinated this? She'd been on his mind so much, he couldn't be sure. But imagined or not, he needed to get rid of her. "You should go."

She took her bottom lip between her teeth and just like that, blood pooled in his groin again.

"You don't mean that."

His heart pounded in his ears. "I do. You're not safe here."

She quirked an eyebrow. "What do you mean I'm not safe?"

He closed his eyes, breathed in and out through his mouth. "You have a hold on me, Octavia. One I can't resist. Today, of all days, I don't have the strength."

She slipped her arms around his neck, and he opened his eyes. "Please, Octavia. I'm begging you."

Brushing a gentle kiss over his lips, she slid her hands to his bare chest. "No, I'm begging you. Fuck me."

His chest heaved. "Oh, God. That day in the park, I should have never said that. It was cruel. I was trying to make you understand..."

"I know." Eyes locked on his, she moved her hands to the button of his jeans. "But you meant it, didn't you? Not the crude raw part." She worked the button free, and for the love of God, he couldn't stop her. His brain kept telling him to, but she was here. Touching him. Wanting him. And he was nothing but a sorry-ass man about give in to temptation. Then she slid down the zipper, and he reached deep into his soul for the last bit of restraint. He caught her wrists in his hands. "Stop. Please."

She looked up at him. "Why?"

"Because I can't."

She pulled one hand free, placed it on his chest again and shoved him against the wall, then moved her fingers south.

He groaned. He should make her stop, but every nerve in his body screamed to let her do whatever she wanted. And then she rose to the balls of her feet, kissed him, and her hand circled his cock. Good Lord Almighty.

Her mouth was so hot and sweet, he curled his hand around the back of her neck and surrendered. Kissing her until he ran out of air, he pulled her hand from his pants and held it. "You've got to stop, or I'm going to lose it."

She smiled, her eyes lit with a mixture of emotion. Lust? Excitement? Fear? He couldn't be sure.

"That's the first time I've ever touched a man there."

"I thought so." He grimaced.

She pulled back, searching his face. "Oh. Did I do it wrong?"

He laughed. "No such thing."

"Then let me do it again because I liked it."

He pressed his forehead to hers. "Damn. Keep talking like that, and I'll get my rocks off."

She widened her eyes. "Just talking can make that happen?"

He whispered a laugh. Her innocence got to him. So damn sexy. "I can almost get off just looking at you."

"Even with my clothes on?"

"Yeah."

She backed away, removed her jacket, and undid the first button on her shirt. "Then let's see what happens when I'm naked."

This was a mistake. If the kiss had hooked him, then making love with her would be his undoing. But this might be the only night he'd ever have with her. Something twisted in his chest at the thought. Who was he kidding? One night would never be enough. A thousand wouldn't. "Then let's go to the bedroom."

He led the way, and she followed, and by the time he closed the door, she'd removed her blouse and started on her skirt. Even though having her strip for him had been among his fantasies, it wasn't how he wanted her first time. "Let me help with that."

She dropped her hands to her sides. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and glided the skirt down her legs. She stepped out of it. He cupped her hips with his hands, then pressed his lips to her belly. "Mmm, you smell good."

She didn't say anything, so he glanced up. All the color had drained from her face. He rose to his full height and pulled her into his arms. "Scared?"

She pressed her face against his chest and breathed in, committing him to memory. It seemed like the world wanted to keep them apart. It only made her more determined to keep him. She was going to write her own damn story.

"A little. I rehearsed that vulgar line for hours last night, and I think I pulled it off pretty well, but I guess my courage is waning since things are about to get serious."

He had to laugh. Of course she would rehearse. As if she even had to try. "If you're having second thoughts, we don't have to do this."

She shook her head against his chest, trying to hide the heat blossoming across her cheeks. "No. I want to. I really do. I just don't want to mess up. You know. From lack of experience."

"We'll go slow." He pulled back, searching her eyes. "And if you want to stop at any time, just say so, and we will. Okay?"

"I thought once you got hard, you couldn't go slow."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about me. It's all about you tonight. And it might take some of the romance out of it, but I'll guide you. You okay with that?"

"Yes," she breathed. "I want our first time to be perfect."

He didn't have the heart to tell her that pretty much every time was perfect for a guy. No need to clutter up the event with too many details. "It will be. Because you're perfect." He covered her lips with an open mouth kiss that had her clutching his shoulders to bring him closer. He broke the connection, licked her lips, then went back for more. This time, a sound he recognized came from her throat. Arousal. Oh yeah. She'd be ready soon.

He trailed his lips down her neck stopping to gently suck the soft skin into his mouth, while he unhooked her bra. He should mark her. Let the world know she'd been his if only for one night. But sending her home with a hickey might not be in his or her best interest. He kept one hand firmly on her back, brought the other one to caress her breast, the bra dangling loose below it. He pulled it free and drew her nipple into his mouth. She hissed out a breath and grabbed him like he was the only thing keeping her on solid ground.

Threading her fingers through his hair, she held him in place. Panted. Clearly, she liked it. Hell yeah, she did. He'd never been with a woman who didn't. He sucked until she whimpered, then he gave the other breast a turn. Lingering on the stiff nipple, working it with his tongue, it hardened even more in his mouth. God, he loved that.

He tracked his lips lower. Kissed her right above the lace of her flesh colored panties, then eased them down her thighs, to her knees—ankles— floor. She raised one foot, then the other, and he made short work of the bikinis, then leaned back to look at her. Holy hell, she was hot. Even better than his fantasies. All that silky, bare flesh, his for the taking.

He took her in his arms and walked her backward to the edge of the bed. "Lie down for me."

She followed orders, and he knelt between her knees. She raised to her elbows and eyed him.

"I want to taste you, Octavia. Okay?"

"Oh—all right. Do I watch?"

He grinned. "Might be hot if you do."

"For you or me?"

"Both." He needed all the help he could get because this needed to be quick. If not, his dick just might rip. He slid his hands to her thighs and gently nudged them apart, then lowered his mouth. With the first stroke of his tongue, she gulped a sharp intake of air. Three more strokes and she whispered a soft little oh with each one. Then her hips began to rock, a clear sign she wanted more, which he gladly delivered. Fingers digging into his shoulders, her body shuddered as she whimpered her release. The sound causing him to tremble with need.

His kissed his way back up her torso, then settled to face her. "You okay?"

"Are you kidding?"

He chuckled. "Just making sure. You never said stop, so I figured things were going well."

"Where you're concerned, I don't think that word is in my vocabulary."

"Good, because we're just getting started." He kissed her again. Slid his hand between her legs, and played. Explored. Teased.

She didn't move a muscle, just let him work his magic, which drove him crazy with desire. Tamping it down, he got to work and made lazy circles with his finger.

She moaned her approval.

"God, you're slick."

"I know. And my insides ache." She took a breath. "Should I tell you that?"

He laughed again. "I've noticed you're not as chatty as usual."

"I don't know what to say. I mean—like now, I can feel your—you know—jumping against my leg. Should I mention that? Should I touch it? You said you'd help me, but so far, you haven't told me anything."

"We'll get to that later." He slipped a finger inside her, and her hips lifted. "That feel okay?"

"Yes."

"Good." Then he added another one. "How about now?"

She arched higher. "Uh-huh."

He withdrew and went back to circling her sweet spot.

"That feels really good."

"I'm going to make you come again."

She started to answer, but he delivered on his promise and whatever she'd planned to say got swallowed by a gasp. He didn't let up. As the orgasm hit, he slid both fingers back inside her, and she bucked. He slowed his stroke, bringing her down easy.

"Oh, God. Lincoln…"

"Yeah. I know." He withdrew his hand. "Now comes the instruction part."

"Just tell me what to do."

"No, baby. You have to instruct me. Tell me what feels good and what doesn't."

"I don't understand."

"To get you off again, I need to stroke you just right. You have to help me find the position to make that happen."

"Okay."

He scooted to the edge of the bed, opened a drawer, got a condom and rolled it on. He slid back to her side, then hovered over her on all fours, and gazed at her. "You sure about this?"

She quirked an eyebrow, playful. "We've already gone a little far to back out, don't you think?"

He shook his head, willing her to understand she could back out at any point. He didn't plan on rushing things with her, or acting like an overeager teenage boy trying to pressure her into things she wasn't completely comfortable with. "No. All we've done is foreplay. You can jack me and leave the same as when you got here."

"Why are you trying to talk me out of it?' She propped herself up on her elbows, looking at him but not exactly meeting his eyes. "Was that bad for you?"

"No," he sighed. How could he put it into words? They had such little time left together. "Damn, Octavia. Everything's perfect when it comes to you. I just want you to understand. We do this, the only thing that changes is you won't be a virgin anymore."

"I get it," her voice broke a bit, but her face remained steely, resolved. "You're still leaving, and I'm going back to Arkadia. It's not like we'll have a relationship. Right?"

"Yeah." That sounded cold, and her expression broke his heart. "But you mean something to me. You know that. It's just the timing…If I could stay here with you, I would."

She pressed her fingers to his lips. "I know."

Then she kissed him, slid her hand to his cock, circled it, and his brain went blank. He lowered his body, and she rubbed the swollen head against her hot center. He was more than happy to let her be in charge, so he followed her lead.

Back and forth. Around and around she rubbed herself until he thought he might come undone. Just when he was about to say something, she opened wide, lifted her hips and eased him inside. He held back at first, then rocked in a steady rhythm.

"That feels good."

He pushed harder, and she flinched. "Am I hurting you?"

"Just a little, but keep going." She gripped his hips, met his thrust, and he went deeper.

Lincoln's head spun. She was so tight, his cock felt like it was in a tourniquet. He'd never been with a virgin. Talk about a mind-blowing experience. Every brain cell focused between her legs, and he needed to move forward because this was the hardest hard-on he'd ever had. "On three, take a deep breath."

"Okay."

"One. Two. Three." She gulped, wrapped her legs around him, and he pushed past her virginity.

She cried out, then caught her breath.

He stilled. "You okay?"

She circled her hips experimentally. "Uh-huh. It only hurt for a second."

He leaned low and kissed her. "You feel so good. You drive me crazy. You know that, right?"

She answered him with a kiss, hot and full of lust. When she ended the lip lock, she stared up at him. "Lift my hips higher."

Putting his weight on his knees, he grabbed her butt with both hands, arched her into him, and stroked slow and steady.

She gasped. "That's it. Right there."

Then came the panting. Just like before, and he knew she was on the edge. Damn, it didn't take her long to get off, which was a good thing because he was right there with her. Body going taut, she clenched the sheet with both hands and bucked like a wild horse, causing Lincoln to come with her.

When he was empty, he fell onto the bed next to her, and she snuggled into him. He loved the way her body fit against his. He loved her soft skin. Long hair. Full lips. The way she smelled. He loved everything about her.

She rubbed her hand over his chest. "I love you. I'll always love you. I know you think I'm too young and inexperienced to know what I feel, but you're wrong. I'll never love anyone but you."

"Octavia…"

"I don't expect you to say it back because I know, someday, you will love me, and for now, that's enough."

"Look, I don't know where I'm going or when I'll be back. I've said it before, and it's true. Don't put your life on hold for me. College should be fun. Go to parties. Date. I don't want you to miss out on anything. If you do, then someday, you'll hate me for it."

She lifted her head and kissed him. "I could never hate you."

"Yeah, you could."

She took his hand and placed it over her heart, then pressed her hand to his. "When you get to where you're going, and you're tired, or lonely, or afraid. Put your hand on your heart and think of me. I don't care how far away you are, I'll feel it."

"Octavia…"

"No. Don't talk. You said nothing changed tonight. You're wrong. Everything has changed. I know it. And you know it—and knowing is enough."

Something twisted in Lincoln's chest. Because she was right.

* * *

At first, he thought it was a dream, but then he opened his eyes. Octavia lay next to him, leg resting between his thighs, hand wrapped around his cock, stroking slow and steady. "What are you doing?"

"I want to make love again."

He took a deep breath. Hell, he was already hard. "We can't. I only had three condoms, and we used the last one the last time you woke me."

"We don't need one. My cycle has always been like clockwork, and I'm in the safe zone. I can't get pregnant right now."

"Okay, that's proof right there you're too young for me. That's a stupid idea." His boner said otherwise. It thought it was a fabulous idea. Hell, the best idea since the last time it had seen action two hours ago. Bad cock.

"No, it isn't. How do you think women kept from getting pregnant before birth control? I'll tell you how. They charted their cycles. I did the math. Several times. I doubled checked them with the online pregnancy calculator."

He huffed out a breath. "Well, little miss student. I have to be the adult here. We can't take a chance. I knock you up, then your life is ruined."

"No, it isn't."

He put his hand over hers. "Could you please stop? I can't think straight with you doing that."

She straddled him and leaned forward, letting her breasts hover over him. Without thinking, he cupped them with his hands. God, she was so beautiful. Sex with her was—there wasn't a word for it. Unbelievable. Awesome. Mind-blowing. Yeah, it was all of those and more. "Too big of a risk."

She pulled his hands away. Leaned lower. Letting her nipple touch his lips, and hell, he drew it into his mouth. She reached between them and slid onto him with such ease, his head spun. "Don't you like the way that feels?"

Hell, yeah he liked it. She was so hot and wet he thought he might explode. "We can't."

"Yes, we can. Or I should say, I can. You just lay there. I'll do all the work."

God, he wanted her. Needed her. When he made love with her, the dread twisting in his gut disappeared. "Dammit, Octavia. Swear to me you can't get pregnant."

"I double swear."

"Then ride me. Ride me hard."

* * *

Octavia had done her best not to have a complete meltdown. Every time she woke in tears, she had gotten Lincoln to have sex. Didn't take much convincing. Well, except for the two times they'd done it without a condom. She'd learned there was a lot to be said for using one. Less mess. Less cleanup. At least for her. Wasn't a big deal for him. Guys had it so much easier. It was really unfair.

Her lack of embarrassment and modesty shocked her. Being naked in front of him felt normal. Which was really crazy because no man had ever seen or touched her. More proof she belonged with Lincoln, and what she felt was beyond lust or infatuation.

She'd thought that once she lost her virginity, she'd feel different, but she didn't. Well, other than every part of her body being sore. Especially her heart. Each time she thought of him leaving, it cracked a little more. But today, she wouldn't allow herself any tears. She'd be strong—for him. He was already sad enough. She saw it in his eyes

She pulled her hair into a ponytail and stared into the mirror. She didn't look any different either. No womanly glow. Which was probably just an old wives' tale. There was one thing she'd noticed each time the sex ended. She felt more connected to Lincoln. Maybe it was because she was learning his body—and hers, but whatever it was, she loved him more now than she did yesterday, and she'd not thought that possible.

He could argue all he wanted, she knew she'd never love anyone else. Not like she loved him.

He snaked his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. "I wish we had more time together."

She turned to rub her cheek against his. "This from a man who tried to get rid of me. More than once."

"I've never claimed to be the smartest guy around. I still think you're too young for me, but I'm not going to fight it anymore. I think I proved that by letting you take advantage of me."

She snorted. "Oh—so I'm to blame for last night."

"Damn straight. You're the one who barged in here with a vagina." He laughed.

She shoved him back, then turned to face him. "You think you're funny, don't you?"

He trailed his lips along her jawline. "No. I think I'm happy."

"I am, too. Happier than I've ever been. And my vagina and I thank you."

He pinched her butt. "You told me this would happen. I just didn't believe you."

"What? That'd you'd give in to me?"

"No. That first day in the park. You said you were the girl of my dreams. I just didn't know it yet. Well, now I do. You are."

"I love you." She rose to her toes and kissed him. She did it to prevent him from responding. He'd been careful to avoid those three words, so she didn't want to put him in an awkward position. But she knew he felt it. He'd told her more than once he cared for her, which in her book was the same thing. She released him and backed away. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah. Got my bag by the door. Clarke, Marcus and Wells should be here in a few minutes. She has some furniture to store, so later today, they're going to bring it here. No need paying for a unit when this place will be vacant for a while."

"Will you call me?"

He took her in his arms again. "I can tonight when I get to the base, but once I ship out tomorrow, I won't be allowed a cell phone. Guess I'll have to write."

"Will you?"

"Yeah. If I can. Hard to know what I'll be able to do until I get orders."

She took a deep breath and willed tears away. "I understand. I just hope you won't be gone long."

"Yeah, me, too—Octavia, I…" The doorbell rang. "That's probably the family. I'll let them in."

It didn't take long for Lincoln to instruct Clarke where to put her extra furniture, and give Wells orders to check on the place at least once a week. By the time he'd covered all the things that needed attention while he was gone, his ride to the base was out front.

Octavia's heart sank, and she dug her nails into her palms to keep from crying. As long as she focused on physical pain, the emotional agony stayed at bay. Along with everyone else, she followed him out onto the porch. He gave everyone a final hug, then walked away without looking back, until he reached the van. Then he turned. Locked eyes with her, and mouthed, "I love you."

She ran to him, threw her arms around him, and sobbed into his chest. "Do whatever you have to do to come back to me."

He held her tighter. "I will. And Octavia, all that shit I said about going on with your life, I didn't mean it. Don't see anyone else. When I get back, we'll make it work. I know it's selfish…"

She placed fingers to his lips. "You don't even have to ask. Now, tell me you love me one more time."

He cupped her face, wiped her tears with his thumbs, then kissed her. When their lips parted, he whispered against them. "I love you. Always. Forever."

She took a deep breath as if to pull the words into her soul.

Then he was gone.

Clarke wrapped her arms around her, and Octavia wept harder, her entire body shaking. "I'm so scared."

"I know. We all are."

* * *

On Monday, while Bellamy took Rebel for his daily walk he thought about how life had changed. Clarke had lived with him less than three months, and he was already used to having her around. Funny. He'd been by himself for years, but now the thought of those empty rooms made the cottage seem much bigger. Thank goodness, she'd be home tomorrow. All he had to do was make it one more night. He'd not liked the idea of her going to Georgia alone, but she wanted to take care of things before paying another month's rent. Just one problem. The real boyfriend lived there. What if he contacted her?

He shook the notion away. He could what if himself all night, and it wouldn't change anything. Sooner or later, she'd see him. Bellamy just wanted to be with her when that happened. Needed to be. To defend what he'd done. The lies he told. Well, only one. That he wasn't who she believed. Everything else had been honest.

Bellamy didn't know what he'd do if she chose the other guy, and that was a real possibility. Especially once she found out how he lied to her.

The sharp December air cut at his face. Most of the trees had lost their leaves, so only evergreens remained. In front of the road that led to the old Walden place, he stopped to let Rebel hike his leg on a sapling. Fresh tire tracks marked the lane. One of the many no trespassing signs flapped in the wind and a new real estate sign advertised the property for sale. Bellamy had heard the place was on the market, but the last time he'd seen the ramshackle house, he figured finding a buyer wouldn't be easy. He'd even considered purchasing it just because the land backed up to his place. But why? What did he need with more acreage? Didn't plan to run cattle or plant crops. Only added more taxes. It would prevent the risk of having an unpleasant neighbor. But since the home wasn't visible from Bellamy's house, that wasn't a good enough reason.

Rebel took off in a trot, and Bellamy picked up his pace. The thought of spending another evening alone didn't appeal. He'd not invited Mom and Octavia to dinner in a while, so this would be the perfect opportunity. He was in the mood for steak, and Polis had a great restaurant that grilled them just right.

By the time he got back home, showered, and headed to his mom's house, it was almost seven o'clock. He'd texted his plans earlier, and she'd responded. Turned out, it would be just the two of them. Octavia probably some kind of senior holiday bash. Which was fine because he wanted her to enjoy her last year of high school.

He pulled into the drive, killed the engine, and hopped out of the truck. Every rooftop in the neighborhood glowed or twinkled with Christmas lights. Even Mom's. Putting them up was his job, but she'd gotten someone else to do it.

He stepped onto the porch and pushed open the door. "Hey, Mom!"

She answered from down the hallway. "Be right there! Just need to get my sweater!"

Within a few seconds, she appeared.

"Who put the lights up?"

"Marcus and Wells."

Crap. He should have known. As much time as Kane spent with Mom, no doubt he'd take over plenty of Bellamy's jobs. Not sure how he felt about that. "Oh. Sorry."

She grabbed her purse and slipped the strap over her shoulder. "No need to be. With two of them working, it didn't take long." She flipped on the porch light. "Let's go."

Once on the road, Bellamy glanced at his mom. She looked different. More relaxed. Understandable since the pie contest was over. Or was it something else? "So—you and Mr Kane."

She faced him. "What about us?"

"He's doing stuff around the house. Does that mean things are getting serious?"

"What if they were?"

Bellamy's heart slammed against his rib cage. For her to ask that question, answered his. He needed to be careful of what he said next. Truth was, he didn't know how he felt about that. He'd never pictured another man in Mom's life other than Dad. Bellamy wanted her to be happy, and he knew from experience, grieving for someone who'd died never brought anything but sadness—and regret. "He's a good man. I just…"

She patted his knee. "I know. Kids always think their parents will be together forever. I thought the same thing. Certainly never considered Dad dying so young. But I like Marcus. Really like him. And Octavia's about to be gone, and I'll be alone. I get to thinking maybe he came into my life at just the right time for a reason."

"It's just college. She's not leaving forever. And you still have Raven and me. Lina. And even Roan."

"I know, and I'm thankful y'all are here. But you have your own lives, and it's not your job to take care of me."

He didn't like where this conversation was headed. Sounded like changes were in the works. "We don't consider it a job."

She took a deep breath, folded her hands in her lap, and stared straight ahead. "I didn't realize how much I missed sitting with your dad on the back porch. Neither of us talking. Just sitting in comfortable silence. Or taking late afternoon walks. Cooking together. Sharing silly inside jokes. Going to bed at night knowing when I woke the next morning he'd be next to me. Marcus will never replace your dad. There's no way he can. Just as I'll never replace his wife."

Bellamy swallowed hard. "So it is serious."

"I'm saying it could be. Maybe. Someday. In the future. And if it is, I need to know you'll be okay with it."

He ran his hand over his jaw. Maybe she was right about the timing. He'd thought the same thing about Clarke. For years he'd fought involvement with a woman, but once he met her, that changed. He didn't want to go back to how things were. And he sure as hell didn't want a life without his mother in it. She needed to be close, so Bellamy could make sure she was okay. Raven and Octavia, too. He'd promised. "As long as he doesn't move you out to Atlanta, then yeah, I'm okay with it."

"Good. And don't worry about me leaving Arkadia. That will never happen."

With that assurance, Bellamy's lungs stopped burning, and he breathed easier. Time for a new subject. One not so depressing. "So, what kind of party did Octavia have tonight?"

* * *

 **It is a truth universally acknowledged that a gal in possession of a fic must be in want of comments. Or something. I never read that book.**

 **Sorry for the Linctavia-ness that dominated this chapter. Unless you're into it. Show Octavia is crazypants.**

 **Also, uh-Oh. O's busted.**

 **Thank you to all the people who've stuck with this so far.**


	25. Chapter 25

Bellamy gripped the steering wheel so tight he thought he might break his knuckles, but his eyes never left the darkening road. Street lamps were rare on the back roads. "What do you mean she went to Atlanta with Clarke? Are you crazy? You know she'll see Lincoln! He'll probably get her into bed. Is that what you want?"

Mom stared at him for a long moment. How could she be so calm? And how could Clarke, knowing how Bellamy felt about her cousin, do this and not say anything? God, this pissed him off. "Mom?"

She put a hand on her hip and fixed him with a look, like Really? "I'm just giving you a second to get control of yourself."

He rubbed rigid tendons on the back of his neck and clenched his jaw. Control? Hell, it seemed he had none of that where his family was concerned. "I can't believe this. Clarke, Octavia, and you all know I don't want them together, yet went out of your way to keep it a secret. Why did you agree to this? You did agree, right?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated.

Aurora crossed her legs and pulled her cardigan tighter. "Yes."

"Why?"

She raised her eyebrow at him, as if to ask Really? "Because she would have gone anyway."

"You don't know that. She's never disobeyed you."

"She's never been in love before."

He groaned. "And she isn't now. Just thinks she is."

"Oh, Bell. You have a lot to learn about children. Especially teenage girls." Mom took a deep breath, then faced him. Lights from the streetlamps flickered through the window casting shadows across her face like a silent movie reel. "As a parent, you have to pick your battles. This one was not worth fighting because it wasn't winnable."

"Yes, it was. Clarke would have never let her go without your approval. I know that."

"You're right. But Octavia's eighteen. She has her own car. And she wanted to see him before he left. Take my word. I was her age once. Nothing was going to prevent that," she paused long enough to catch her breath before plowing on. "After two rounds of rehab, how many times did I tell you to cut Roma loose? How she was never going to get better. How she was just breaking your heart over and over. Did you listen?"

He hung his head. She had him there. And he'd wished a thousand times he'd taken her advice, but hadn't, and everything she'd predicted came true. "No. And I regret it."

"Well, there you have it. Real or imagined, Octavia loves him, and only time will decide which it is. Not you. Not me. I had to ask myself if it was worth alienating her, and it wasn't. If she were sixteen, then yes, but not with her about to be on her own. I can't have her leave with resentment. Kids make bad decisions when they're trying to get even with their parents. Your Lola tried her damndest to keep me away from your father, and that only made me want him more, and go around her back. We didn't talk for over a year. I don't regret my time with him because he gave me you, but if I hadn't gotten pregnant with you, I might still be on the drugs he got me hooked too. Lincoln is a hell of a lot better than Terrance ever was, and Octavia's eighteen. We just have to trust that we raised her right."

"But, Mom, he's…"

She held up her hand. "I know. Older. You think too old. And right now, maybe he is. But he's a fine young man. He's done nothing to encourage her. Just the opposite. If he was some loser, then I'd lock her in her room, but that isn't the case. So get over it. Don't make her choose between you and him because you may not like the outcome."

Bellamy swung into the parking lot at the steakhouse, then beat his head against the steering wheel. "How can my life be great and shitty at the same time?"

Mom laughed. "Oh, sweetie. That's a question you'll be asking until the day you die."

* * *

What a dump! That was all Finn thought the first time he'd seen the property. But after seeing Clarke in those stupid ass YouTube videos, he figured it was time to make a move. She seemed to be putting down roots here, and he couldn't allow that. Besides, he'd gotten the place for a song. Hilarious! Might get her to write one about it. Already had the title. Dump-dee-dump-dee-dump!

And what was going on with her hair and clothes? Had she lost her mind? Pink streaks and low cut sweaters. He had to admit she'd looked kind of sexy in a slutty way, but he knew from experience Miss Prude Perfect was anything but a slut. She gave skanks a bad name. Fine by him. It just meant even though she was living with some guy, he didn't worry about anything going on between them.

Maybe the dude was gay, which would be the perfect setup because he'd never seen a woman less interested in having sex. That was unheard of for a stud like Finn. Women loved fucking him. Bree couldn't get enough. The thought of her locking her ankles around him as he pumped into her got him hard. Hell, it took fantasizing about her to get a rise with Clarke because she was about as limp as a cold fish. He wasn't even attracted to her.

Everything was falling into place. The newspaper article he'd read and the interview she'd done at the TV station in the neighboring town had pretty much told him all he needed to know. Finding out her new address had been even easier. People in small towns were such idiots. All he had to do was hang out at any business and eavesdrop on the rednecks with lives so dull they had nothing better to do than discuss the quirky stranger who wrote funny songs.

Once he drove by her new residence, it was just a matter of contacting a real estate company in Polis about the adjoining acreage. He'd spent the last few days spying on her. The high powered binoculars he'd brought were so good, he could almost reach out and touch her—or the dog. The mutt had been a surprise. She'd never shown an interest in having a pet. A good thing. Finn hated the thought of getting animal hair on his clothes. Creatures were dirty. However, in high school, along with his friend, Dax, Finn had enjoyed trapping stray cats then setting them loose on Dax's ranch to hone his hunting skills.

He took the new night goggles from their box and ringed the lens with the cleaning cloth. Probably wouldn't even need them, but he wanted to make sure he'd covered all his bases. For the last couple of days, Clarke had been MIA. He should have been following her. A mistake on his part. The only logical place she'd disappear to was Atlanta. Maybe she'd gone back home for something. Missing that opportunity to confront her was a real shame. But, then again, doing it here without Kane or her pseudo-brothers around was a better plan.

No worries. Where ever she was, she'd be back for her next performance.

* * *

When Clarke got home, she pulled into the garage next to Bellamy's truck, but he didn't come to meet her. A bad sign. When she'd dropped Octavia off, Mrs. Blake had warned Clarke how upset Bellamy had gotten about the trip. No surprise. There had never been any question about his anger once he discovered the lie. Clarke had only hoped to be the one to tell him.

She stepped inside the house, dropped her bag to the floor, and squared her shoulders. "Bellamy?"  
From the backyard, Rebel barked. She moved to the door and opened it. Bellamy sat on the chaise, staring into the dark.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Thinking."

Rebel ran to her, and she knelt to greet him. "Hey boy, did you miss me?"

"He did," Bellamy said.

He didn't look at her. Another bad sign. This might be worse than she imagined. No need to put it off. She stood. Rebel settled at her feet. "I'm sorry. I should have told you about Octavia."

He didn't even look at her. "Why didn't you?"

"Because I knew this would happen, and I didn't want to leave town with you mad at me."

She waited for him to say something, but he didn't. Just kept sitting there like he'd been nailed to the chair. "So—I guess there's no reason for me to unpack."

That got his attention. He snapped his head toward her. "Why would you think that?"

"You've known about the situation for twenty-four hours, and you're still upset. You've not answered my texts. Or my calls. That makes it pretty clear you don't want to talk to me, and you need more time."

"Just the opposite. I want to talk, but before the fact instead of after."

She moved closer, sat on the edge of the lounger, and locked eyes with him. "Are you saying if I had, you would have approved?"

"No. But I wouldn't have let you leave until we worked through it."

She placed her hand over his, but he still didn't move. "I am sorry for not telling you. Not for letting her go. If the situation had been reversed, and it had been me wanting to see you, nothing short of death would have kept me away. Accept it or not, they love each other."

He cocked an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

"Yes. He told her so."

"To get in her pants?" He snorted.

She frowned, "No. Because it's the truth. Be mad at me if you want, but don't be angry with her. She's already suffering enough."

Clarke came to her feet and started to walk away, but he caught her wrist. "Don't go." His voice was barely a whisper, but she heard it.

"Why?"

This time, he sounded surprised. As if his answer should be obvious. "Because I've missed you."

"But you're still mad."

"No. I'm hurt. Took me a few hours to figure that out, but I finally did."

She sat again and placed her hand on his chest. "That's even worse. I never want to hurt you."

This time, he covered her hand with his own. "Then promise no matter what the problem, you'll discuss it. I want you to feel like you can tell me anything."

"I promise. Beginning now." She ran her hand to the button of his jeans. "First subject. I want to try something."

* * *

Finn pulled the binoculars from his eyes and wiped away sweat. Didn't matter the wind chill hovered below freezing. The scene unfolding in the dude's backyard heated Finn's blood. Holy shit. She was all over the guy. Out in the open for God and anyone else with night vision goggles to witness!

The man barely lifted a finger. She did all the work. Tore open his shirt and pulled his pants down far enough to release his cock. And once she did, she shimmied out of her panties, straddled him, and rode him like a pogo stick. And when she climaxed, it sounded real. Not like the weak moans she'd made when he'd fucked her. No, she'd screamed, the sound echoing through the woods like a war cry. To make matters worse, she wasn't done. Only gave the jerk a few minutes to recover and then went at him again.

Clearly her brain injury had done some damage. Like changed her into a nympho! That had to be it. No way that country fucker turned her on more than Finn. Hell, maybe he hadn't been so good at foreplay, but that guy had barely felt her up, and she still went wild. Unbelievable.

He ground his teeth and narrowed his eyes. All the months they'd been together, she'd played him for a fool. Faked every orgasm. Not that he cared if she had one or not but pretending—Bitch. Hell, he could make a woman come without even trying. Maybe he'd give her the opportunity to fake it one more time before he took care of her. No. He didn't want to waste time with her when he could get back to Bree. She appreciated his bedroom skills.

God was on his side. Clarke could have died in the accident, but her survival proved it. The Almighty spared her just so Finn's plan could succeed.

When Finn was done, he'd write a book. Become famous. They'd praise him for creating such a brilliant, original character. He already had a pen name picked out. Finn T. Dennis. He couldn't help but laugh. That would be his biggest scam of all. Using his real name along with "sinned" spelled backward for a confession right on the cover, yet no one smart enough to figure it out! Sometimes he amazed himself even more than usual! 

* * *

Clarke dropped the phone in her jacket pocket, then clipped the leash to Rebel's collar. "Your daddy texted. He's running late. We don't have to wait for him."

The dog wagged his tail so hard his whole body shook.

Clarke opened the back gate and let Rebel lead the way. She'd grown to love this time of day when the horizon swallowed the sun in small bites, and gaps in the trees allowed spears of golden light to streak the earth's floor. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and filled her lungs with chilled air. Only a few more days until Christmas and she'd still not decided what to get Bellamy.

No question what she'd like to receive from him. The ring in the back of the desk drawer. Every day she thought about it. Why wouldn't he propose? She'd regained most of her memory, so what was the holdup?

A Christmas engagement would be just the right amount of time to plan a summer wedding. Guys never thought of things like that. Maybe she should get Octavia to drop a hint. Or not, since he was still upset about the trip to Atlanta. At least with his sister. It was almost like he blamed her for falling in love. But he of all people should understand nobody has control over what the heart feels. It had taken him a long time to stop loving Roma.

Most women might be jealous of a former girlfriend, but not Clarke. To her, it proved how deeply he loved. He was the kind of man she'd waited her whole life to find. And now that she had, nothing would come between them. She wouldn't allow it.

Lost in thought, by the time she noticed Rebel cock his head and come to a full stance, it was too late. Luckily, he went into action. As the silver car traveled at high speed, and swerved, Rebel dug in his heels, rushed forward, and threw his body against Clarke with such force. She tumbled and landed hard in the shallow ditch by the road.

She blinked, then blinked again, squinting against the fading light of day. What had just happened? It was almost like the driver had aimed for her. Couldn't be. That made no sense. She pushed against her elbow sending a sharp pain up to her shoulder, across her back, and down her hip. She groaned. Rebel licked her cheek. "It's okay, boy. Just give me a minute."

The dog turned in a circle, his leash trailing across her chest. She grabbed onto it, and as if he read her mind, dug his heels into the earth and pulled until she sat upright.

"Such a smart boy. Like a little tow dog." She rubbed her shoulder, then stretched it out and winced. "Oh, that's going to hurt for a while." She slid her fingers along her ribs. "Don't think anything is broken, so let's see if I can stand." Placing palms on the ground, she came to a kneeling position, rocked back onto her feet, then pushed herself up. "Ouch!"

Rebel nuzzled her leg.

She patted his head. "It's okay. I'm just a wuss. Come on, let's see if we can make it home without anybody else trying to run over us. What an asshole."

Clarke limped along and replayed the incident in her head. She'd not looked at the driver. Once she saw the car headed toward her, silver metal claimed her attention. Had it not been for Rebel, she wouldn't have escaped serious injury—or worse.

As the house came into view, Rebel broke free and sprinted to the front door, barking like a mad dog. Within seconds, Bellamy bolted onto the porch. Rebel ran back to Clarke as if to get Bellamy to follow, which he did. Closing the distance between them, he quickly assessed her before focusing on her face.

"Holy shit! What happened?" He ran fingers over her temple. "You're bleeding."

She winced, despite the tenderness of how he held her. "Oh, I must have hit my head when I fell."

"You fell? How? Where?"

"Just down the road. A car came out of nowhere. I'm such a klutz."

"Are you saying you almost got hit by a car? Jesus, Clarke!"

She shook it off. She had spent enough time being a doctor's daughter to know she'd sit in the emergency room for eight hours only for her insurance to be charged a grand for a couple bandages. "I'm okay. Nothing a hot bath won't cure."

Bellamy tailed her down the hall to the bathroom and stopped in the doorway. "Are you sure? Maybe we should have Nyko take a look."

She turned on the faucets, held her fingers under the water to test the temperature, then stepped away to strip off her sweater.

"Shit," Bellamy sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth as he raked his hand over her back. Her back was already starting to bruise. Clarke flinched, grabbing at the sink for support. His gaze met hers in the mirror. "Your fall was more serious than you let on. You need to be examined."

Clarke grit her teeth. "No, I'll be okay."

"Not good enough. You could have internal injuries." His tone had taken on a harder note, as if there were to be no debate.

"It's just a bruise," she countered. "If I have any weird symptoms, I promise I'll make an appointment." She pulled her pants and panties down in one fluid motion.

He leaned low to examine her bottom. "Your hip doesn't look much better. You landed with some force. I think it should be x-rayed."

Raven had been right, she realized. He was such a Mom.

"No! All I need is to soak in hot water."

He huffed, displeased, but let go of the subject. For now, anyway. "You get a look at the driver?"

"No." She turned off the spigot and eased into the tub.

Fifteen minutes later, after swallowing a couple of ibuprofen, she put on her pajamas, threaded her arms through her robe and traipsed into the kitchen. Bellamy stood at the stove stirring something in a pot.

He glanced up. "I made you some hot chocolate."

She smiled and plopped a kiss on his shoulder. "You're the best, but I'm still not going to the hospital."

"Maybe for now but you may change your tune tomorrow. From the looks of the bruising, you're going to be sore in the morning."

"If that's the case, then I'll go."

"Promise?" He quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes."

Bellamy looked as if he wanted to say more, but someone knocked on the door. When he opened it, a dark-haired man stood backlit by evening light. The stranger looked over Bellamy's shoulder, then pushed into the room. "Clarke!" He rushed forward and wrapped his arms around her. "Sweetheart, I'm so glad to see you."

She shoved away with a hiss of pain and glared at him as Bellamy crossed the room in two steps, placing himself between Clarke and the invader.

"Get the fuck out of my house," he growled the same time she answered, "I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

The man ignored him, focused entirely on Clarke, as if her boyfriend weren't even there. "Darling, it's me. Finn. Your fiancé." His smile was feral, reminding her of the Cheshire cat in Alice.

"Excuse me? What are you talking about?" She didn't wait for an answer. Instead, she hurried to Bellamy and hooked her arm in his and stared up at him. "What's he talking about?"

His jaw clenched, and his arms tightened around her. "He's lying."

Finn whirled around. "Don't expect a straight answer from him. He's the liar. Been lying to you for weeks right along with everyone else. Your mom. Marcus. Lincoln and Wells. Even Luna. They've let you believe this guy is your boyfriend."

"He is my boyfriend," she croaked. "Why are you saying these things?"

Bellamy pulled way from Clarke and grabbed Finn by the collar. "You need to leave."

"I will, but not until I prove to Clarke I'm who I say I am." His eyes cut to Clarke. "Remember the trip we took to Fredericksburg? The little cottage where we stayed with the crazy journal? The rooster that crowed all hours of the day and night? Remember the Cheap Trick concert? You won backstage passes from one of the local radio shows. We have history, Clarke. Can you remember one thing about this guy prior to the accident?"

Bellamy dragged Finn toward the door and pushed him out onto the porch. "Get the fuck off my property."

He shrugged away and grinned saccharine in Bellamy's direction. "Sure. I'll go. Give you time to explain things to her. And, when you do, I'll be back to claim what's mine."

Bellamy slammed the door, then turned back to Clarke. She staggered to the sofa, sat, and put her hands over her face.

"Clarke…"

She flinched away from him. "No! Don't talk. Not a word. I need to think."

His voice cracked. "Please…"

"No!" Her breath came faster, then she sobbed. Flashes of being in a throng of people and lights came unbidden. She recalled the concert, how everyone would sing along off-key with the band. Finn, she didn't. But he had to have been there if he knew about it. Nothing made sense to her. She was dating Bellamy before her accident, not this guy. Wasn't she? She didn't remember Finn, but she also didn't remember Bellamy, either. "I remember that concert. I remember winning those passes. How would he know that unless…"?

"Let me explain."

She came to her feet and glared at him. He was lying to her this entire time. She really didn't know him at all before the accident. Everyone was lying to her. The townspeople, his family, her family. All of it was a lie at her expense. "Everything he said is true, isn't it?"

He sighed, his eyes alight with unshed tears. "Most of it, but…"

"I can't believe this. You and I—I can't even say it." She placed her hand on her throat and drew a ragged breath. It was all coming back to her. Her VW rolling down the street like a yellow bowling ball, the deer that stepped out in the road... Bellamy, pulling her from the wreckage. "I remember. You pulled me from the car." She cinched the belt of her robe tighter and rushed down the hallway with Bellamy trailing behind her. Waves of hurt and anger welled up inside her, thundering against the shore with the outrage of a crossed bedmate. Suddenly the house was too small, and she needed out before it all threatened to spill over the surface.

"Clarke, please," he begged. "If you'll just let me explain."

When she reached the bedroom, she jerked her duffle from the closet then took clothes from the rack and stuffed them into it. Explain? What was to explain? She'd been living a life that wasn't hers, with a man she didn't know. To make matter worse, her family and his were in on the deception.

As she emptied drawers and added the contents to her bag, Bellamy talked, but she didn't hear a word for the roaring in her head. She pulled a sweater and pair of sweatpants from the duffle and pulled them on. No need for modesty at this point. She'd been practically assaulting Bellamy every chance she got. She swallowed the lump in her throat, then faced him.

"Just tell me. Did Marcus or my mom pay you?"

"What?" He shook his head. "No. No. It wasn't like that."

"Then why? What was I? A bet? A challenge? Why would you let me, a complete stranger move in with you and go along with such a plan? Huh? What was in it for you?" Her voice broke as she hastily wiped the tears streaming unbidden down her face.

"I asked myself that same question at least a hundred times before I figured it out."

"And?"

"Because I was already in love with you."

She threw her hands in the air. "Stop it! You do not get to be Mr. Perfectly Wonderful while I'm so pissed."

He reached out, as if he wanted to wrap his arms around her, before dropping them back to his side. "It's the truth."

"Truth?" She bellowed. "I'm not sure that word is in your vocabulary."

He sighed, resigned, and sat at the edge of the bed. "The only lie I've told is letting you believe we were a couple before the accident. Everything that happened after has been the truth. We didn't know each other then, but we do now, and what we have is real. You know it is."

As upset as she was, why did she still want to fall into his arms? She zipped the duffle. "I don't know anything. Not even who I am. This," she pointed to her hair, then down her body. "The pink streaks, the clothes, the aggressive behavior—oh, God—the way I've thrown myself at you. That isn't me. None of this is me. At least, not the person I was." She pressed her fingertips to her temples. "What's wrong with me? I mean—I know I've been a failure at just about everything, but to make up a life…"

He was off the bed before she could blink, and took her hands in his. "I don't know about your life before, but you are not a failure," he remarked harshly. "If you could see yourself like I see you. You're good, Clarke, and driven. If you want something, you go and get it." Silence reigned supreme as the fight left him, and she could see just how truly wrecked he was when his voice broke. "I know we've been happy. You've been happy. That has to count for something."

"But none of it has been real. Don't you get it? It's like a fairy tale and the clock has finally struck midnight." She pulled her hands free and grabbed her bag. "I'm sorry, but I can't stay here." She was too angry at him, and seeing him hurt would only crush her resolve. He was sorry, she believed that, she really did. But she needed time to think, and she couldn't anywhere around him. Her entire life had just been flipped upside down, again.

He followed her down the hall to the front door. "So, you're going back to that guy?"

"No," she huffed. She didn't like the look of him, like some self-obsessed Lord Farquaad. The girl she had been had clearly been in love with him, if he was telling the truth about being her fiancée. Either way… "I don't remember him."

"Then where will you go?"

"The bar. I signed a contract, so I can't just up and leave. I may be different from the person I was, but at least the new me has the same work ethic."

"Clarke, please. I'm sorry, but if you'll just give me a chance to explain..."

"NO!" She turned to face him one last time. "There is no excuse for what you've done. I need time to figure things out. Maybe Finn can help me do that."

He reared back like she'd slapped him. Good. Some cruel, petty part of her wanted to hurt him a fraction of how he'd hurt her. "I admit I lied, and I'm sorry. But that guy can't be trusted. Ask yourself why after all this time he's just now showing up? If you were engaged, then where's the ring? And the biggest question is why did you leave Atlanta? You left him. There was a reason for that."

She pulled the door open. "He doesn't matter. Even if I remembered him, I can't imagine loving him the way I loved you."

* * *

 **sorrynotsorry. just a couple more chapters and an epilogue left. tell me how much you love/hate this chapter. i live to torture.**

 **finally a new episode tonight! I hate that they keep skipping weeks, like why not have just started it later rather than annoy the piss out of everyone with two episodes a month.**


	26. Chapter 26

Bellamy stood in the doorway and stared at the car kicking up the dirt road in a hazy orange cloud until the taillights disappeared. Clarke's last words pounded in his head. The way I loved you. Past tense. It was over, and as hard as he'd tried to prepare himself for this day, the ache in his chest told him he'd failed.

He closed the door and collapsed on the sofa, focusing on the new gift he'd added beneath the tree. Couldn't help but laugh. He was probably the only guy in Alabama who kept buying engagement rings only to lose the woman before he got a chance to propose.

He picked up his phone and punched in her number. It rang several times, then went to voicemail. "Clarke, you should at least hear my side of the story. You owe me that. Once you've heard the circumstances, if you never want to see me again, I'll accept your decision. Please call me."

Once she cooled off and thought things through, she'd give him a chance to explain. Had to. At least he didn't have to worry about her running into Finn's arms. Not until she remembered him, anyway. If she did. If luck was on Bellamy's side, she wouldn't. What was he thinking? This was the worst bad luck day he'd had in a while.

He punched in her number again. One ring this time, then silence. She'd blocked him. He understood. She needed time to sort through things. He could give her that, but considering her injuries, someone needed to check on her. Best choice. Octavia.

After explaining the situation to his sister, she agreed after pestering him for a hour for details. Maybe Clarke's injuries weren't serious, but the bruising looked awful. Bellamy would feel better if she saw a doctor. Especially after this accident coming on the heels of her recent head trauma.

He flipped on the television, and the first thing he heard got his attention. Over 260,000 residents were without electricity in the Santa Barbara area. There was his solution. Leave Rebel with Mom and Octavia, then head to California. That should give her all the time she needed to sort things through, and keep his mind off the chance he'd lost her forever.

An hour later, Bellamy swung his truck into Mom's drive. By the time he unloaded all the supplies for ebel, Octavia sauntered out of the garage to help him carry everything inside.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? Running away will only put this Finn dude at an advantage."

Bellamy passed her, taking the dog crate into the laundry room as he spoke over his shoulder. "No reason for me to stay. It's only a matter of time before she remembers everything, and when she does, she'll choose him." He turned to face her and sighed. "I don't want to be here when that happens."

Octavia put her hand on her hip. "You don't know that."

Bellamy raked his hands through his hair. Compared to Finn, he didn't really have anything to offer. "You didn't see him, O. He's about as opposite from me as you can get. He's basically a boy band type with a sports car. And I lied to her. I don't stand a chance in hell." He fell into the the armchair in the den. "She's done with me, and I have no one to blame but myself."

"At least wait a few days, Bell. She might forgive you."

He shook his head, staring down at his hands clasped together. "No. It's better this way."

* * *

As soon as Clarke saw Bellamy's number, she let it go straight to voicemail. After listening to his message, she pulled to the side of the road and blocked him along with everyone else in her family. The last thing she wanted was to talk to anyone who'd been a part of the scheme. An explanation wasn't necessary. She remembered the conversation in the hospital and how she'd locked lips with him the minute she saw him. This was her fault. At least most of it. She'd been convinced Bellamy was her boyfriend. How could her brain play such a dirty trick and why couldn't she remember Finn? And why had he not shown up until now? So many questions, but the biggest one was her identity.

In Atlanta, she had been a different person. Dead end job. Drab clothes. Boring life. Bellamy was right about one thing. For the last few weeks, she'd been happy. But none of it had been real. Except for her feelings for him. Or had they? Had she transferred the relationship from one man to the other?

She pounded the palm of her hand against her forehead. Why couldn't she remember? If her relationship had been so great with Finn, why would she replace him with a stranger? She needed time to get things straight in her mind. She leaned her head on the steering wheel and sobbed. The crazy thing was she didn't know what she was crying about. The lies? Bellamy? Finn? She felt as if she'd been split open and everything scooped clean, leaving nothing but empty space. Thank goodness Gustus and Artigas scheduled vacation during Christmas. Between the bruising and her hollow heart, she didn't feel like entertaining anyone.

She wiped at her eyes and pulled back onto the highway. Ten minutes later, she parked in the alley behind the bar and shuffled in through the kitchen. Artigas glanced up from stacking plates on a shelf, then rushed to her.

"Oh, my God! What happened to your face?"

His excitement got Gustus' attention, and he came to join them. He raked her hair back and eyed the damage. "We're waiting for an answer. What happened?"

"I fell," she deadpanned.

He knit his brows together. "Are you sure?"

She shook her head so fast a wave of dizziness clouded her head. "Oh, it's not like that. Bellamy would never hurt me. Physically." She had to add that last part because he had hurt her. More than she could say. More than she ever remembered. "I really did fall. During my walk with Rebel, a car got a bit too close."

Gustus stepped back. "I wasn't thinking Bellamy. Some guy came in asking about you, and I got a bad vibe."

"Really? What did he look like?"

"Dark hair. Tall. Clean cut. City boy type."

Finn.

Artigas eyed the duffle. "Why do you have your bag? Bellamy leave town again?"

Clarke's bottom lip trembled. "No. We had an argument. I need to stay here for a few days. If that's okay?"

"Sweetie, the room is yours anytime you want it. For as long as you need it. Have you eaten? How about a bowl of soup?"

Clarke ran her hand across her stomach. She was hungry but didn't think she could keep anything down. "No. Maybe just a cup of hot chocolate."

"Coming right up. You go get settled, and I'll bring it to you."

As soon as Clarke got inside her bedroom, she stripped off her clothes and put on her pajamas, then crawled beneath the covers. Thoughts swirled in her brain like a Texas dust devil. The way she'd acted with Bellamy. Things she'd done. The way she'd gone after him—a complete stranger. Oh God, what he must think of her!

"Clarke? I have your chocolate. May I come in?" Artigas eased open the door before waiting for an answer.

Clarke sat up, stuffed pillows behind her back, and took the cup offered. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. You want to talk about it? I'm sure the argument can be settled."

Clarke tried not to cry but failed. Tears flooded down her cheeks. "I can't. I'm sorry. I don't know why I can't stop crying."

Artigas sat on the edge of the bed and patted Clarke's leg. "Oh, sweetie. Love can turn us inside out, but whatever it is, I know you and Bellamy can resolve it because if two people were ever meant for each other, it's the two of you."

Clarke set the cup on the side table and sobbed into her hands. An hour ago, she would have agreed. He was everything she wanted. She had opened herself up and laid her heart and soul out bare for him, and it hurt.

Artigas didn't say anything for a few minutes, then offered probably the only thing she could think of. "Tell me what I can do to make things better."

Wiping her eyes, Clarke shook her head. "I'll be okay. Thanks for the hot chocolate."

"You're welcome. If you need us, we'll be in the kitchen taking inventory. We want to get that out of the way before Christmas, then we won't have it staring us in the face when we open on New Year's Eve."

Once Artigas left, Clarke curled into a ball and tried to relax, but every position created a problem. If she got her shoulder eased, then her hip hurt. Shifting to relieve it, her ribs screamed in torture. At this rate, she'd have to stand to sleep. After switching from one side to the other, she pushed pillows under the most severe pressure points and finally drifted into dreamland.

* * *

On Christmas morning, Clarke came out of her room for the first time since arriving at the bar. She'd spent the last two days trying to make sense of everything. Finn was still a stranger. The harder she tried to remember him, the more frustrated she got, which made her question their relationship even more.

Gustus stood behind the bar restocking shelves and whistling Jingle Bells. Clarke slid onto a stool, and he turned to face her. "Well, thank goodness and Merry Christmas. I was giving you until noon today before I stormed into your room to make sure you were still alive!" He moved closer, cupped her chin, and turned her head for a better look. "You look a mess. Puffy eyes and this cut isn't much better. Putting anything on it?"

"No."

"Needs some antibiotic ointment. Here, let me get some." He strolled to the end of the bar, opened a drawer, and returned with a tube. After washing his hands, he squirted a dab onto his finger then rubbed it across the three-inch scrape just above her eye stretching down to her temple. "Probably needs a bandage to keep the ointment on, but this will do for now."

"Thanks."

"Want something to drink? Water, milk, tea, shot of whiskey?"

She almost smiled but Gustus' concern reminded her of Bellamy's kindness and her heart squeezed. "No, thanks."

"You need to eat something, baby girl. You've barely had more than a few crackers, hot chocolate, and marshmallows since you got here."

"I don't think I can keep anything down." She rested her arm on the bar and laid her head on it.

Gustus lowered his voice. "Why don't you tell me what's going on. Maybe I can help fix it."

She spoke into the wood. "He lied to me."

"For whose benefit?"

She rolled her head to one side and looked up. "What does that mean?"

"Did he gain anything from it, or was it to help someone?"

"Oh," she paused, considering. "I guess the latter."

"Ah, a tender lie."

"Nothing feels tender about it. And, he's not the only one. Everyone I care about has lied to me."

"What would have changed if they hadn't?"

She took a second to think about that. It was a question she'd not considered. "Everything."

Gustus rested his arms on the bar and leaned closer. "Let me get this straight. You wouldn't be in Arkadia—with a man who adores you—performing for fans who love you. That sound about right?"

"I'm not sure Bellamy adores me. Any man who did probably wouldn't lie over and over again."

"You'd be surprised what a man will do to keep from losing the woman he loves. And he's not the only one. You have plenty of people who love you, or they wouldn't be calling every day."

She jerked her head up and placed her hand on the pain shooting up her side. "Bellamy called?"

"No, he probably doesn't have cell service, but Mr Kane and Wells Jaha have. Octavia, too. I figure Rebel would call if he could."

That got a laugh from her which made her ribs hurt worse. "He's the only innocent party in this situation." Half the town had lied to her. But she couldn't be angry with lies of omission. They didn't really know Clarke, at least not like they knew Bellamy. If she was being entirely honest with herself, she had already forgiven Bellamy. Their families, too. Now that she knew, she recalled all the times everyone had tried to tell her as little as possible so they wouldn't really be lying. It hurt, but they meant well, and wanted her to recover.

"Octavia said to tell you she'd bring him for a visit if you wanted. Or, since Bellamy is gone, you could stay at the house."

A knot formed in her throat. "Gone? Where?"

"California. Helping restore power after the wildfires. That's the reason he can't call."

"Oh, I thought you meant because I'd blocked his number. Why would he leave and miss Christmas with his family?"

"Guess that didn't matter. Speaking of Christmas, why don't you have dinner with us? Artigas' parents and my mom will join us, but we'd love to include you."

She shook her head and hissed at the spike of pain running up her spine. "No, thanks. I don't have much holiday spirit."

He reached out to help her straighten. "Okay, here's the deal. I can tell by the way you grimace every time you move your injuries are worse than you're letting on. So tomorrow, you'll go to the doctor even if I have to hogtie you and drive you there in the bed of my truck. Understand?"

She couldn't argue because he was right. The pain wasn't improving, and neither was the crying. "Okay." Before she could say anything else, someone tapped on the front door. Clarke couldn't help but smile as Gustus flipped the lock and let Octavia and Rebel inside. The dog broke free and ran to her. Fighting the pain, she attempted to stoop to his level but couldn't. She sat back on the stool and scratched behind his ears. "I'm sorry, boy. This is the best I can do right now." Then she turned her attention to Octavia. "Thank you for bringing him."

"You're welcome. I started to wait for you to call, but hey, if I'd stayed home, I'd have to help cook and believe me, Raven in the kitchen is already deadly. She tried to take apart the oven since she believes she can make it cook twice as fast. Roan had to restrain her before Mom got ahold of her for taking apart her kitchen." She smirked, then narrowed her eyes. "I don't want to be rude, but you don't look so good. Are you okay?"

Even the happiness of seeing Rebel didn't stop Clarke from crying. God, she hated herself for being such a crybaby, but tears came without warning. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Gustus appeared behind the bar again and dropped a box of tissue in front of her without a word before disappearing to the kitchen. "No. I keep telling myself to just get over it. I should be used to people lying to me. I've never dated a someone who hasn't, but this is different. My Mom. Marcus. Lincoln. Wells. My whole family." She sniffed, then focused on Octavia. "Even you, right?"

Octavia hiked her hip onto the next stool. "Look, it was only supposed to be for two weeks then you'd go back to Atlanta, memory or no memory. But by that time, just like Bell, we'd all fallen in love with you. Then the way you helped Mom with the baking contest. How you were with Lina." A tear rolled down Octavia's cheek, and she swiped it with the back of her had. "But most of all, for the first time in years, my brother was happy. Really happy. And you did that. I didn't want it to go away, and I didn't want to lose your friendship because I felt like you were the only one who understood how I love Lincoln."

Clarke started to speak, but Octavia held up her hand. "No, let me finish. I have no excuse other than I was selfish. We all were. Maybe for different reasons, but still, it was at your expense, and I'm sorry. I just hope someday you can forgive me because I intend to marry your cousin and we're going to be family whether or not things work out between you and Bellamy or not."

Clarke didn't know what to say. The thought of things not working out with Bellamy caused a wave of nausea to churn in her stomach. "I appreciate you bringing Rebel. And, I'm not mad at you, Octavia. Or your mom or anyone in your family."

"Even Bellamy?"

"Yeah. Even him. Right now, I'm not sure what I'm feeling. Other than being sick to my stomach, and my body hurting from head to toe, my emotions have been numb for the last couple of days. I'm just… I'm mad at myself. I mean, I see now all the times he tried to actually help me get my memory back, and oh, God, how many times he tried to stop me when I tried to jump him." Her cheeks lit up at the embarrassment.

Octavia mimed gagging. "I don't need to hear about my brothers sex life. Please." She pursed her lips. "Maybe who you are now is who you've always been, or meant to be. It just never surfaced until after your wreck. I don't know how you were before, but it couldn't be that much different. It just seems to be a case of confidence you have now, there's nothing wrong with that. From what I've heard from Lincoln, you're still the same person at the core of it all."

"Maybe," she smiled weakly, grabbing a couple kleenex from the cardboard and dabbing her cheeks. It was hard for her coming to resolution of who she used to be and who she had become.

"I can't even understand why I'm crying so much. But I'm going to the doctor tomorrow, so maybe he can get me back to my old self—whoever that is."

Octavia placed her palm over Clarke's. "I'll take you. Okay?"

"I can go by myself."

"No. I want to do it. Maybe when you're done, we could drive to Polis. Check out some of the after-Christmas sales. Might do you good to get out for a while." She bit her lip, considering. "Or, you could come home with me now and see everyone."

Clarke slid off the stool, stood next to it, and pointed to the fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. "Since I can't control these, probably not a good idea. But, I agree to let you chauffeur me to the doctor."

Octavia leaned in for a hug. "Okay. Text you later." She reached for Rebel's leash.

Clarke looked down at the dog and rubbed his head. "It won't be long until I'm back to normal and then we'll play again. Okay?"

He wagged his tail and nuzzled her hand.

Then she looked back to Octavia. "Gustus said Bellamy is working in California, so I might stay at the house for the next few days."

"Sure. I'll help get you settled after your appointment. I know Rebel will be glad to get home."

"Yeah, me too." Home. Funny, with everything that had happened, Clarke still thought of it that way.

* * *

The alarm beeped, and Bellamy wanted to hit the snooze button again, but by the time he ate breakfast and traveled thirty miles to the burn site, he'd be late. Staring into the darkness, he thought of Clarke. This was the only time he permitted himself to think about her. Once he got to work, he needed to be clear-headed.

According to the phone crews, if things went well, cell service should be restored by the end of the day in this area. Once it was, he hoped like hell there'd be a call waiting from her. Who was he kidding? By blocking his number, she'd made it clear talking to him was the last thing she wanted. By now, she might remember Finn and be headed back to Atlanta. No, she couldn't do that because of her performance contract, unless Gustus agreed to let her out of it. Knowing him, he would if she asked.

Bellamy sat up on the edge of the bed and raked his fingers through his hair. Only four days into his two-week commitment. Not enough time to mend his broken heart, but enough to prepare himself to an empty home. Before he left, he had stood in the doorway for the longest time, just staring out into the darkened living room. His house had never really felt like a home until Clarke moved in. His dwelling had been bare, his toothbrush solitary. He missed the random bobby pins that collected around the sink, and her clothes in his closet. His heart had found a home in Clarke, and the silence without her made the place deafening.

With a curse, he ran his hands over his face and wondered how long he'd give himself this daily pep-talk before he admitted to drowning in misery? He'd always considered himself a patient man, but when it came to her, that virtue was the first to go. The way I loved you. Those damn words rung in his ears like lyrics of a bad rap song. If she had loved him, then how could she stop as if she'd flipped a switch? One minute declaring the depth of her feelings and the next driving away. It made no sense. Regardless of her amnesia, if she admitted it or not, what happened between them had been real.

It had taken a while for him to figure it out, but the way she looked at him—touched him. None of that was fake. But was love enough? It didn't save Roma, so it might not salvage his relationship with Clarke. Did he still have a chance? A future? He wanted answers. Needed answers.

If she'd just give him ten minutes to explain—remind her of how he'd tried to keep his distance. Avoided getting intimate. Get her to see the situation from his perspective. If she could see beyond that one big lie, then maybe she could forgive him. But dammit! For that to happen, she had to be willing to talk to him. He shook his head, dragged his way to the bathroom, and turned on the shower. No reason to torture himself anymore, it was over.

* * *

Clarke spent most of Christmas day watching sappy holiday movies. Bad mistake. They only fueled more tears. She thought after days of crying the waterworks would stop, but every puppy dog, soda, and Subaru commercial had something in them she found weep-worthy. At least her appetite had returned. Well, it had always been there. She'd been hungry, but the thought of food made her sick. What an evil trick of physiology—when craving her favorites turned her stomach. She'd done her best to overcome that. Right along with the sentimental flicks, she'd binged on junk food, only to puke later. That's what she got for mixing popcorn, moon pies, and jelly beans.

A dozen times she'd compose a text to Bellamy, only to delete it. With over fifteen hundred miles between them, it wouldn't do any good to say how much she needed the comfort of his arms. She considered Facetime. But with the way she looked, not a good idea. No, until she had her head straight, better to leave things as they were. Any day now, she could remember Finn, and that might change everything. Especially if she was in love with him.

She stared at the ceiling, then glanced at the clock. Two hours before her doctor's appointment. Plenty of time to get ready. She'd not heard any activity in the bar, so Gustus and Artigas were probably sleeping in. Well deserved. They worked hard, and since she'd been performing, the crowds had grown to the point they needed to hire extra help.

Sliding to the edge of the bed, Clarke held her breath, then swung her feet to the floor. For the first time in days, she didn't feel much pain. A good sign. Hopefully, by the time the bar reopened, she'd be as good as new. Since it hurt to get in and out of the tub, showers had become her new best friend. She made her way to the bathroom and kneeled to rotate the spigot. Lord, she longed for the day she could soak again and wash her hair.

If Bellamy were here, he'd solve that problem. Damn! Why couldn't she stop thinking about him? Easy answer. In spite of everything, she still loved him. At least she thought she did. Or did she love him because she thought he was Finn? Or, did Arkadia Clarke love one man and Atlanta Clarke love the other? Without her full memory, she couldn't be sure who she was or which man she loved.

She massaged her throbbing temples. All the confusing thoughts brought on another surge of nausea. Since she'd not eaten anything, at least she wouldn't vomit. She was losing her mind. She'd have to go back into therapy. Today, at her appointment, she'd ask Dr. Nyko for a recommendation. A psychiatrist could explain if the love she felt for Bellamy was real or imagined. Sure felt real. Heart-stopping, blood-boiling, body-shaking real.

She took her bottom lip between her teeth. Adrenaline surged through her like an electric current spreading heated arousal from her face to her toes. She closed her eyes—drew a long breath in through her nose, then released a whispered oh. This was crazy. Even with the pain and queasiness, the mere thought of him turned her on. She really was losing her sanity. Yep. Head doctor, here I come.

A half hour later, when Gustus called Clarke into the bar, she found Monty waiting instead of Octavia.

"What are you doing here? I thought Octavia was taking me to the doctor."

He widened his eyes. "She got up sick this morning. Puking her guts up. Too much Christmas turkey, I guess, and Raven was up half the night with Charlie. Anyway, I volunteered to fill in for her. You ready to go?"

"Yeah, and once I'm done with the doctor, I thought I'd stop by the children's ward if you have time. It's a shame they have to be in the hospital during the holidays. Maybe some silly songs will brighten their day." Clarke pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed a stray tear. She'd have to get those under control if she expected to cheer up other people. "Let's stop at the Quick Mart so I can get some candy canes."

Monty smacked his lips. "Great idea. I wouldn't mind having one myself."

Upon arrival at the hospital, Clarke learned her appointment would be delayed due to an emergency, so she visited the children first. Seeing their faces light up and eagerness to sing along lifted her spirit. By the time the nurse called her, she felt like she might not need that shrink after all.

An hour later, Dr. Nyko ran his fingers down Clarke's ribs. "Well, I guess I don't have to ask if that hurts. Your reaction says it does."

"I know. I keep hoping it'll get better, but so far, not much improvement."

He pressed his fingers against her shoulder, then cupped her upper arm and gave it a slight rotation. "Don't think anything is broken here. Lie back and roll to your side and let me get a look at your hip."

She complied with a groan.

He spread the gown and applied pressure in different spots. "We all missed you yesterday at Aurora's, especially your godfather."

"I know. I'm just not ready to talk to him yet." Without warning, she burst into tears. "I'm sorry."

He took her hand and helped her sit up. "It's okay. Better to cry than hold all the emotion inside."

She gritted her teeth with the movement. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm hungry, but the thought of food makes me sick. I want to talk to Bellamy, but yet, I don't. I just want to crawl into bed and stay there. The only thing that's made me feel halfway normal was seeing the kids. I mean, I should be ashamed because they're sick at Christmas time, and I'm having a pity-party."

"You've been through a lot the past few months. You're still healing both physically and emotionally. You have a lot to come to terms with. Forgiveness isn't easy."

Clarke clutched the edge of the exam table. "It's not even about the lies anymore. It's more about discovering who I am—the person before or after the accident. I have to figure that out to understand everything else. Does that make sense? Or, am I losing my mind?"

He chuckled. "Psychiatry isn't my field, but considering these past few weeks, I'd say it's perfectly normal for you to feel this way after such a life change. Probably intensified by Christmas. It's hard enough to deal with disappointment on a good day, but the holidays are especially difficult. On a personal note, from what I saw between you and Bellamy seemed like love."

Like a bolt of lightning, the meaningless words landed in her brain with such force, she jerked her head toward Nyko. "What'd you say?"

"You and Bellamy. Seemed like the real thing."

She put her hands to her temples and pressed as a barrade of random images slammed into her mind with dizzying accuracy. "Oh, my God. Finn. I remember. Everything. And I don't love him."

"You don't?"

"No. He cheated. I caught him." She widened her eyes. "Oh, my God! I caught him in the act. At his office." She pressed her hand to her throat. "On his desk. I'm going to be sick."

The nurse grabbed a pan and shoved it beneath Clarke's chin.

She heaved and puked up the candy cane she'd eaten earlier.

Nyko moved back to her side. "Are you okay? Mel, get a wet cloth."

The nurse went to the sink, returned, and pressed the small towel to Clarke's head.

Mel smirked. "What a jerk and how cliché. Having sex on his desk with his secretary."

"She wasn't his secretary."

The nurse took the cloth from Clarke's face and refolded it, then held it against her forehead. "Is that better? Do you feel like you're going to vomit more?"

"No. I'm okay. Now I know why I left Atlanta. To get away from Finn."

Dr. Nyko placed his hand on her back. "Do you remember why you came here? To Arkadia?

Clarke bowed her head, then looked up again. "I got lost. I didn't know where I was. I just wanted to get away from him."

"Finn is the last piece to the puzzle?"

"Yes. I mean, I still have questions—like if he was cheating, clearly he didn't love me, so why is he even here?"

Mel stepped back. "Maybe he just did it the one time and wants forgiveness."

Clarke swallowed hard to choke back the bile. "No. The conversation I heard proved it had been going on for a while. Probably from the beginning which would explain a lot."

"As you know, all the memories concerning him might not come back right away," Nyko said. "It could take days or months. My best advice is not to force them. In the meantime, we need to get a picture of those ribs. Mel will take you to x-ray. Okay?"

Clarke nodded.

The nurse picked up a clipboard and flipped through her chart. "Any chance you're pregnant?"

She shook her head. "Not if the IUD has done its job."

Nyko stopped in the doorway and spun around to face Clarke. "Have you seen another doctor since your accident?"

"No. Just you. Why?"

He cocked his head. "Then, your symptoms might not be related to this last incident. Clarke, you don't have an IUD."

* * *

 **okay but who expected that? ;P**

 **next chapters gonna be crazy. be sure to tell me how you liked this one. I'll def need positive reinforcement since I've got court all this week (suuuuuuck fest).**

 **hopefully this stupid two week break crap is over since we're apparently getting a new episode tomorrow.**


	27. Chapter 27

No doubt about it, Clarke thought as she stared out the passenger window of the car, she was cursed. Now that her memory had returned, recapping her life almost made her laugh. But it was no laughing matter. Bad jobs. Bad relationships. Bad decisions. Bad, bad, bad. Yep. Cursed. The crazy thing about it was she'd found the prince with the kiss to lift the spell, and what had she done? Made another bad choice—and left him.

Now he was a gazillion miles away probably licking his wounds with another woman, or worse, letting her lick them. Oh God. Who could blame him? Not Clarke. She'd been unwilling to give him a chance to explain. Blocked him from her phone. Hurt him to the point he'd left town. And if all of that wasn't enough, now he'd be forced into fatherhood before he was ready. He'd made that clear. He wanted children—someday. Not now. Not this summer.

He'd only propose because Bellamy was the type of man who'd do right by her. But as long as she'd dreamed about that, she'd have to refuse. Forcing him would be just one more mistake added to her long list, and she was done with that. To get her life back on track, she would have to make concessions. Especially with her family. With a baby on the way, she'd need their support more than ever.

She'd have to swallow her pride. Return to Atlanta. Move in with her mom. Since she had performed at The Bunker and received lots of social media exposure, she should be able to find plenty of gigs in the city. Once she got established and on her feet, she'd find a small place of her own. Teach music during the day and book performances on the weekends Bellamy had the baby.

If he wanted it.

She thought back to how good he was with Lina, how he doted over baby Charlie. He'd want it, she realized. Even if it was too soon, she knew he'd be a great parent. Bellamy had been doing that all of his life.

It would be the best of both worlds. A career and stay at home mom at the same time. The only thing missing— someone to love. Bellamy.

Even if her relationship with Bellamy had been based on a lie, it had felt like the real thing. At least for her. She'd had the advantage. She'd gotten to know him for who he was, but he'd not been so lucky since even she'd not even known the real Clarke Griffin—until today.

Monty's voice shook Clarke from her thoughts.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Her friend smiled sympathetically. "I said, you've been quiet since we left the hospital. I thought you'd be talking my ear off, especially since you said you remember Finn. Tell me about him."

Clarke laughed under her breath. "I wish I could, but it turns out, I don't know him. I thought he was close to perfect. Handsome. Successful. Devoted. What a load of shit, "she huffed. The more she thought about Finn, the more she hated him for being such a colossal waste of her time. "He's a liar and a cheat. The sad part of it, I was so gullible that I believed every word. He traveled for work. Two weeks away. Two weeks home. Lies. Nothing but lies. What he was doing was juggling women. The weird part is why he showed up here. There's no way he's in love with me, so that just has me baffled. As soon as I see him, I'll tell him it's over. I want nothing to do with him."

"And what about Bellamy?"

Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes. "That's complicated. I'm not sure how it will turn out." She pulled her phone from her purse. "The first thing I'm going to do is unblock him and my family. Now that I've finally recovered my past, I have to open the lines of communication if I want to move forward." Yeah, because I'm going to have to break the news I'm pregnant. Once more, I'll get to see the disappointment in everyone's eyes.

Clarke suddenly sat upright. Her eyes widened. "That's it!" she exclaimed.

Her sudden movement caused Monty to flinch. "What?"

"It just dawned on me why I've always chosen the wrong people. I've been trying to make up for my shortcomings through landing someone successful. I don't think I loved any of them." It's so clear. Eric, the pre-med student. Lexa, the attorney. Finn, the financial whiz. I chose all of them because I knew that's the kind of man my dad would've wanted for me."

"So, you're saying you chose Bellamy because he's the opposite of what your dad wanted?" Monty snorted. "You little rebel."

"Rebel? Oh. My. God." Clarke shook her head. "Even the name I gave my dog is messed up in my psyche. Before the accident, I made plans to change my life. Dye my hair. Wear different clothes. Be more seductive. I did all of that! How could anyone love me when I'm such a nutcase?"

"Well, Bellamy sure does. You're the first person he's dated since Roma. After what he went through with her, he didn't trust anyone. Closed himself off to avoid getting hurt like that again. Understandable, but he took it to a whole new level. You changed all that. Changed him. Back to how he used to be. No matter how complicated things are, give him a chance." He patted her knee. "He's a good guy. He makes mistakes, same as everybody else. But there's no one you'd want more in your corner."

Monty wheeled into the alley behind the bar and parked next to Clarke's car. "You sure you'll be okay? I could take you to Bellamy's house. Sure you're up to driving?"

"Yes, I'll be fine. Now that Dr. Nyko wrapped my cracked ribs, I feel much better. I should have gone sooner. Thanks for taking me. See you later."

Clarke got out of the car, went inside, said goodbye to Gustus and Artigas, then headed home. It'd be good to sleep in her bed tonight even without Bellamy.

As she drove, she racked her brain trying to figure out what Finn was doing in Arkadia. If the affair with—what was her name? Britney? Brandy? Bree. Yeah, that was it. If he'd been sleeping with her for over a year, then why me? Not for great sex. That was for sure. He wasn't interested enough to make it good. She'd thought the strain of his job had kept him stressed and aloof.

A flurry of leaves swirled in front of her. As she watched them fall, an image of papers fluttering from a briefcase flashed to mind. Finn's briefcase. She'd hurled it at the floor, then spotted something on the papers as she picked them up. A spreadsheet listing large sums of money. Bank account numbers and passwords. Then passports. Fake IDs. That's the reason for his visit. Now it made sense. She'd seen an offshore account when his briefcase snapped open, and coming here proved he was up to no good. He wanted to make sure she didn't talk.

She turned into the drive and killed the engine. The garage door opener was inside the house. She'd move the car later.

The moment Clarke opened the front door, something seemed wrong. Maybe it was knowing this might be the last time she'd be here or the fact this would be the place their child would spend time— without her. Whatever it was caused the hair on her arms to stand on end. Considering everything that had gone on in the last twenty-four hours, no wonder she was uneasy.

She dropped her duffle onto the floor and set her purse on the bar. Palming her phone, she fought the urge to call Bellamy. She couldn't take the chance. If she heard his voice, there was no way she could keep the pregnancy a secret, and she wanted to tell him in person. Her phone rang, and she tried not to feel so disappointed it was only Wells.

"Clarke, Monty said you were going to Bellamy's house. If Finn shows up there, don't let him in. The guy's dangerous."

A chill ran up her spine. Her eyes darted around the room, then landed on the patio door, slightly ajar. Her heart thundered.

"Clarke? Did you hear what I said?"

Was he already here? In the house? Think. Think. She struggled for breath and gained her wits. "I think it's too late for that. I'll let you know when I'm ready to talk." She clicked off, just as Finn appeared at the end of the hallway. Her heart stopped. She struggled to move, but every fibre of muscle remained flaccid and useless, rooting her to the spot. How did he get into the house? Why was he here? Her brain screamed at her to run, but her feet were rooted to the floor.

She offered her best fake smile. "Finn. What are you doing here? How'd you get in?"

He moved closer. "Oops. You caught me. I know this looks bad, but I wanted to find out all I could about this guy you've been living with. I'd heard he left town, and you weren't staying here, so I jimmied the lock and let myself in. Never expected to see you, but now that you're here, things are perfect." He eyed her bag. "You're already packed, so we can leave."

Her knees weakened. She leaned against the counter for support and hoped her lie sounded honest. "I'm sorry, but I still don't remember you. I'm sure you're a nice guy because I wouldn't be with someone who isn't, right? But, I don't feel comfortable trying to take up where things left off if I don't have any memory of our life together. I just need a little more time."

He closed the distance between them and slid his arms around her waist. "I'm afraid that doesn't work for me, love."

She winced, and her bottom lip trembled. She tried to break his hold, but he tightened his grip. "Ah, you might remember more than you say. You recognized my little pet name, didn't you?"

"No."

He clamped his teeth together. "Don't lie to me."

"It sounds a little familiar, but that's all. That's how my memories have been happening. A flash here, a recognizable phrase, a sound. Things are coming in bits and pieces, that's why I need more time. The doctor said if I tried to force them, they might just bury deeper."

"All the more reason for us to be together. How can you expect to recall our history if you're not around me?" He released his hold and closed his fingers around her wrist, then picked up her bag with his free hand.

She struggled. "I can't leave town. I have a contract to perform at the bar."

He jerked her forward, and his gaze slithered over her. "You don't have a choice."

"You're kidnapping me? You can't get away with that. Gustus knows I wouldn't ditch a performance. My family won't believe I just left without a word."

He laughed, the sound so maniacal, Clarke's stomach turned.

Then his eyes lit up like a cat who'd just found a nest of baby birds. "Oh, Clarke, love, you've already done that. Disappeared and ended up here in this godforsaken place. If you'd not survived the accident, it would have been weeks before your family knew your whereabouts. They'll just think you were so distraught over all their deception you've pulled the same stunt again. Poor little Clarke always running away from conflict."

No more Poor Little Clarke. As much as it hurt her ribs and hip, Clarke thrust her knee up into his groin as hard as she could.

He dropped the bag, stumbled backward and grabbed his crotch with both hands. "You fucking bitch."

Clarke clasped the doorknob behind her, yanked it open, and ran to her car. Crawling inside, she slammed the door and locked it, then realized she didn't have a key. Damn. What now? If she only knew how to hotwire it. She'd seen it plenty of times on TV, why hadn't she paid attention?

Finn staggered out onto the front porch, dangled her keys from his finger and laughed. "Where do you think you're going?" He hit the key fob and the locks lifted.

Clarke re-locked them.

He moved closer and hit the fob again.

Her heart pounded. Locked.

Taunting her, he took baby steps. Unlock.

Relocked.

He played the game, and with every click, her fear grew until she felt she might faint.

Finally, he reached the car, unlocked and opened the door, as she scooted and went out the passenger side, and ran to the street.

He called after her. "Run all you want, this time I won't miss."

She lost her breath. The car incident hadn't been a road hog. It'd been him, and he'd tried to kill her! This wasn't about asking her to keep quiet. He wanted to make sure!

The chevy's engine came to life and bile rose in her throat. Her baby was going to die right along with her. Bellamy would lose another child he never knew about. She sobbed and fought to breathe. Her lungs burned with the effort. She had to get off the road. Somewhere the car couldn't reach her. She sprinted across the road, leaping with one foot onto the meridian and using it to launch herself up a rusty chain-linked fence, her palms digging into the sharp steel ends that formed barbed spikes along the fence's upper border. Biting through the pain, she vaulted over the fence and dropped down to the other side, her sandals slipping off as she scrambled across the deep gully into the woods.

If she could escape him long enough, maybe Wells would get here in time.

The motor roared down the blacktop, then skidded to a stop. Finn's voice echoed through the woods. "There's no place for you to go, love! Might as well save us both some time. Come out come out wherever you are," he sing-songed.

Clarke ran as fast as she could through the trees, stumbling over uneven ground, underbrush lashing at her arms and face.

"Ready or not, here I come."

She tripped on a root, turned her ankle, and fell flat. She was hurting and out of breath, but she wouldn't allow herself to stop. She had her baby to think about. She had to keep it safe. She had only know about it for an hour, but it was part of her now, she wanted it. Stumbling to her feet, she placed a hand on her stomach.

She knew it was impossible, but she swore the baby moved as if it felt her, and that spurred her on. With new resolve, she picked up her pace. To her left, she saw a thick mass of scrub cedar and wormed her way inside the clump. Terror prickled through her like ice. Waiting was even worse than running. Within minutes, Finn ran past.

Her heart pounded in her ears so loudly, she was sure he could hear it. In the distance, a car barreled down the road. Wells.

Once she heard the motor die, even though it would give her away, she had to take the chance, so she screamed as loud as she could. "I'm in the woods! He's chasing me! Help! Help!"

The welcome sound of Rebel's barking reverberated through the trees.

Clarke fought her way out of the thicket and ran toward the sound. "Come on, boy! Over here! I'm over here!"

Finn jumped out from behind a tree, tackled her, pinned her down, then wrapped his hands around her throat.

She struggled and lashed out with her hands, clawing at his face, but he kept on, undeterred. "Finn, please," she wheezed. "I swear I won't say anything about the money."

He squeezed tighter. "This isn't about that. This is payback for what your daddy did to my family. He took my father and now I'll take his little girl. It's a shame he's not here, but at least Marcus will spend the rest of his life grieving just like I have."

"You won't…" She spluttered. "You won't… can't..." Her breath was failing. "Can't get away with this." She grasped uselessly against his grip, her toes twitching centimeters off the ground. Spots clouded her vision.

"Yes, I will. I always do." He tightened his grip as she thrashed beneath him. Her eyes rolled back into her head.

Out of nowhere, a snarling dog leapt through the air. Rebel clamped his teeth around Finn's wrist and tore at it with a vengeance.

Finn rolled away from Clarke and tried to fight the dog off, but Rebel wouldn't relent. When Finn shook him free from his arm, Rebel bit into his face, then his neck. Streams of blood trickled down his chest. "Get this dog off me!"

She didn't remember flying through the air, or rolling across wet leaves and broken twigs. Seconds later, she came to, breath punched out of her, head hazy from the impact, her ears ringing like bells. As her breath came back, slowly, painfully, Clarke pushed herself to a sitting position. Coughing and wheezing, she pulled herself up on a sapling. As she stood, Wells reached the scene and pulled her into his arms. "Are you okay?"

She collapsed against him and gasped for breath. "I—don't…"

Wells raked hair away from her face. "It's okay. He can't hurt you now."

"He—he…" She sobbed.

Clarke looked on mindlessly at Rebel attacking Finn, sensing with a detached interest the way her veins imploded with chilly shock. She touched her head, feeling the fuzziness fade from it as she struggled to breathe. She clutched her sore throat and wheezed.

"Here, sit down by this tree." He eased her out of his arms, then turned his attention to the dog. "Rebel! That's enough. Good boy."

The dog backed away and came to Clarke's side. His muzzle was bloody, but she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his fur. "Good dog."

Finn thrashed and groaned, pressing his hand to his neck as he tried to get his knees under him. "I'm going to kill you both," he spat.

"Shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth." Wells grabbed Finn's ankles and flipped him over on his back. Wells pulled Finn up by this shirt collar and pounded his face.

Finn fell back to the ground and tried to crawl away, but Wells kicked him in the stomach. Once. Twice. Three times.

Clarke found her voice. "Wells! Stop, or you'll kill him."

He landed another blow. "Yeah, that's the idea."

Sobbing, Clarke tugged at her friend's sleeve. As much as Finn deserved a beating, she wanted the violence to end. She'd had enough in the last hour to last her a lifetime. "No. Please, stop!" She collapsed to the ground and buried her face in her hands.

Wells complied then knelt and gathered her into his arms. "I'm sorry, but I just want to beat the hell out of him for what he's done to you."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "I know. But I need it to be over. Okay?"

He hugged her tighter. "Damn, Clarke, my heart stopped when you said it was too late. I prayed I got here in time."

In the distance, sirens sounded. Clarke stared at Finn, bleeding and unconscious, and wondered how she'd ever been taken in by such an evil man.

Of course. The curse.

* * *

 **OKAY, so just one more chapter and then, the epilogue. I'll prob have the rest of the story posted by this time next week. I can't believe we're already at the end! I feel like I just started posting this not long ago, but its been a few months. I've started working on another fic but it'll be ages before its ready.**

 **ANYWAY, thanks for reading. Feel free to tell me how much you like or hate this.**


	28. Chapter 28

While Dr. Nyko examined her for the second time today, Clarke prayed for good news. Cuts and scratches covered every exposed part of her body. When she'd tripped, she'd landed hard on jagged rocks. She needed to be sure…couldn't finish the thought. If she suffered a miscarriage for what Finn had done, she'd kill him herself.

"You can sit up now, Clarke." He helped her pull up into a sitting position.

She slid her palm over her stomach. "Is the baby okay?"

He examined her chart. "Baby and mother are both fine. The bruises around your throat look pretty bad. And other than the sprained ankle and minor lacerations, you should be back to normal in a couple of weeks."

"A couple of weeks?" It seemed like just yesterday she was getting her cast off after her accident, and now she was going to have another rough couple of weeks healing.

"It'll take that long for the discoloration to completely fade. You'll need to take it easy." Silence reigned supreme before he spoke up again. "You going to tell Bellamy about the baby?"

She bit her lip. "Of course. Just not over the phone. That kind of news needs to be delivered in person."

"What about the attempted murder?"

She eyed him dubiously. She still couldn't believe Finn had tried to kill her. It all seemed so surreal. "Again, not a good topic for phone or text."

Nyko patted her shoulder. "In a town this size, it won't be a secret for long. Bell probably already knows. While Finn was treated at the Polis' emergency room, I heard they had a camera crew outside. Besides, you've become quite the internet sensation, so this will get lots of coverage."

"I hadn't thought of that. I can see the headline now: Girl Who Writes Crazy Lyrics Gets Attacked by Crazy Man."

Nyko chuckled. "At least you're getting your sense of humor back. That's a good sign. He's probably going to lose his left eye. Rebel did a job on him." He paused again, as if he wasn't sure he had any right to ask. "You going to stay at Bellamy's?"

"I don't know," she sighed. She had been thinking about it since she was brought in. "I'm safer at The Bunker, but now that the scumbag is in custody, safety isn't an issue. But I do like having Rebel with me, so I might stay at the house."

"I'll leave you to get dressed," he handed her a bag of her clothes. "You've got a waiting room full of people wanting to see you. Who do I send in first?"

"Marcus," he felt more like family than her mother did. "It's time I talk to him."

"Will do." Nyko gave her one final pat on the shoulder. "You need me for anything, day or night, call. Okay?"

She managed a small smile. "I will. Thanks."

By the time she had managed to wiggle back into her jeans, her godfather rushed into the room and wrapped his arms around her.

Guilty tears pricked her eyes. "I'm sorry, Marcus," she hiccuped. "I'm sorry for everything. Leaving Atlanta. Blocking your calls…"

His arms tightened around her, albeit careful of her injuries. "You don't owe me an apology. I owe you one—or a hundred. But you have to understand I thought I was doing the right thing. You didn't recognize any of us and when you seemed to know Bellamy, well…"

She pushed away and stared up at him. "It's okay. I finally understand—a lot of things."

He pulled his brows together. "Like what?"

"Like always choosing the wrong person, because I thought they were the kind my dad would want me to marry." She leaned her head against his chest and cried.

"Honey, all he ever wanted is for you to be happy." He smoothed her hair back and rubbed her back soothingly. "Besides, you didn't choose Finn. He chose you. He had an agenda and that's my fault." He sighed, recounting. "When I was with the District Attorney's office, I put his father in prison, where he died. Finn's family lost everything. His mother ended up committing suicide and his sister OD'd. Based on what he told you about never getting caught for his actions, the cops are looking into three other suspicious deaths, all related to his father's case. Pretty sure those will come back to Finn."

Clarke hung her head and wiped at her cheeks as errant tears escaped her. "I've made so many bad decisions. I know I've disappointed you."

"Absolutely not!" He pulled back, arms on her shoulders as he stared her down. "I failed you, Clarke. Not the other way around. I knew how to handle the boys, but when it came to you, I second guessed myself constantly, and usually made the wrong choice because you're the daughter I've never had. Like convincing Bellamy to go along with my stupid plan. I'm sorry."

She sniffed and shook her head. "No, Marcus. You did that just right. He's everything I've ever wanted and then some. I just hope it isn't too late."

He smiled sympathetically down at her. "He doesn't seem like the type to give up."

"But he left. He could have stayed and fought for me. Right?"

Marcus shook his head sympathetically. "By getting out of the way, maybe he thought you'd be able to see things more clearly. As it turns out, you have. Ask him to come home, and I bet he will."

* * *

At six a.m. on New Year's Eve, Clarke rolled to her back, took a ginger lollipop from the side table and popped it in her mouth. The home remedy for morning sickness worked like a charm. So far, no one had questioned why she'd suddenly developed a sweet tooth.

Last night, she'd taken Marcus' advice and composed a text to Bellamy at least a dozen times only to delete it. She didn't know what to say. I need you. I love you. I'm having your baby.

Her head pounded from crying herself to sleep. After Marcus had gone to bed, she'd undecorated the Christmas tree and taken the boxes to the garage. The presents remained wrapped on the kitchen table. She'd also looked for the ring in the desk drawer, but it was gone. Bellamy must have returned it, which meant he'd decided life with her was out of the question.

Tears pricked her eyes, but she fought them back. No need to cry. This was her fault, and as much as she loved him, she had to accept it wasn't meant to be. Today, she'd move back to The Bunker.

She strolled down the hall and found Marcus standing at the stove scrambling eggs with Bellamy's History Buff apron.

"Good morning, sweetie," he grinned. "Breakfast's almost ready. Take a seat."

She pulled jelly and orange juice from the fridge and set the table. "You don't have to cook for me. I already feel guilty about how you're neglecting your practice much less have you wait on me hand and foot."

"I don't mind. Actually, I like it. As far as the firm, I've been cutting back for months. I'll start the new year working a couple of days a week."

That announcement surprised her. "What will you do? Play golf?"

He laughed and spooned eggs onto a plate. "Might spend more time here." He stuck two pieces of bread in the toaster.

"In Arkadia?"

"Yes," he paused, gauging her reaction. "With Aurora."

She raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

He side-eyed her. "Will that bother you?"

Clarke widened her eyes. "You're talking romantically?" She grinned at his obvious discomfort of talking about his love life for a change.

He set the plate on the table and dropped into the chair across from Clarke. "Yeah."

She threw her head back and laughed.

"What's so funny?" He frowned. "You think older people can't still be interested in romance?"

"Hell, I'm counting on it. Besides, you're not really old. I just think it's funny my family came to town and all wanted to hook up with the Blake's. What's with us? We had to come to the country to find love?"

He shook his head. "Seems like it."

She straightened in her chair. "Oh. My. God. You've fallen in love with her?"

He stretched his lips into a thin line. "Pretty sure I have."

The picture-perfect future flashed in Clarke's mind. Marcus and Aurora. Octavia and Lincoln. Bellamy with her. Too bad fantasies rarely worked out. "That's great. You've been alone a long time. It'll be nice to have someone to share your life with again."

* * *

Clarke was exhausted by the third set that night. It had been standing room only for each performance, and the crowd had been rowdier than usual. Maybe they'd all made resolutions to drink and party less and tonight was their last hurrah.

To cover her battered and bruised body, she'd dressed in a black ankle length skirt and long-sleeved turtleneck. Thanks to concealer and makeup, the only visible wound was the bandage at her temple. By starting each performance with the lame joke about the crazy man headline, most expressions of sympathy had been done by way of eye contact. She appreciated that because rehashing the ordeal over and over was the last thing she wanted to do.

As she sang her closing number, I'd Rather, the crowd got into it shouting out some of the silliest lyrics she'd heard. She finally had to cut them off, or this would go on all night. "One more suggestion and then I'll finish the song."

From the shadows, Bellamy stepped forward.

The crowd hushed.

Breath caught in the back of Clarke's throat.

He locked eyes with her. "I take back my apology."

She wanted to speak, but her mouth had gone dry. Other body parts, not so much. Wearing boots, old jeans, and a pale blue Henley, he looked good enough to eat. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair. Trail her tongue across his skin. Inhale him. Soak him in. Devour him.

"What?"

Chairs squeaked as patrons leaned forward. Stools whined when the guys at the bar turned their attention. Gustus and Artigas set down the bottles they were holding and trained their eyes on the unfolding scene. The room spun like a carousel. Neon beer signs blurred in brilliant streaks of color. Clarke felt like she was floating, then he spoke again and brought her back to earth.

He stepped closer to the stage, to her. "I'm not sorry I lied because it got you into my life."

The roaring in her head made it impossible to understand everything he said. Every person in the bar had their eyes locked on her. She wanted to disappear. She parted her lips to speak, but nothing came out. However, Bellamy didn't seem to have that problem.

"You got lost because I was meant to find you. I'll always find you. Blindfold me and put me in a stadium full of people, and I'll still be able to find you. Because I know your scent and how you taste…"

A chorus of oohs and ahs circulated through the crowd. Her cheeks reddened.

Clarke rose from her stool. "I can't do this here." She turned on her heel and rushed to her room with Bellamy on her heels. He didn't give her time to shut the door, not that she wanted to keep him out. Just the opposite.

He eased it closed but kept his distance. "I'm not leaving until you let me explain. I didn't want to lie. And I sure as hell didn't want you living with me. I knew it was a bad decision. Because I knew…"

"I'm pregnant."

The words exploded out of her mouth before she could stop them and from his expression, she wasn't sure if they'd registered.

He shook his head. "Uh—uh…"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know this isn't what you wanted. It isn't what I wanted, and it's all my fault. I forgot I'd had the IUD removed. You don't want to get married much less have a baby— and you don't have to. Marry me that is. I get it. I left you, and that was wrong. I should have stayed, but I didn't know what was real and what wasn't."

She waited for him to say something, but he just stood there, his face as blank as a new diary. "Say something."

He sucked in a sharp breath and stared into space. Then he ran his fingers through his hair and looked at Clarke as if she'd spoken a foreign language. "A baby?"

"Yes."

He took a deep breath. "Well…"

She collapsed onto the edge of the bed. "For God's sake, say something. Anything." Covering her face with her hands, she sobbed. Silence filled the room and her heart tripped. Maybe she'd been wrong, and he'd finally realized what a screw-up she was. Then he spoke, and the words rang in her head like a church bell.

"Marry me."

Clarke uncovered her face and found Bellamy on bended knee holding an engagement ring.

She stared at it for a second, then lifted her eyes to his. "That isn't the ring from your desk."

"Right," he grinned.

She gasped. How could she have been so stupid? "The ring. It wasn't for me, was it?"

"No. But this one is."

She shook her head. As much as she wanted it, it wouldn't be fair. For either of them, and especially for their kid. "I don't want you to marry me because of the baby. If you do, you'll regret it someday and so will I because I'll know you did it out of obligation."

"You aren't paying attention." It was his turn to look flabbergasted. "I didn't know you were pregnant, yet, here I am with a ring. You're not forcing me to do anything."

She shook her head, trying to make sense of it all. "Wait. You were going to propose anyway?"

"Yeah. I had it wrapped and under the tree, but when you left, that ruined the surprise." He leaned over, his fingers outstretched towards her stomach, hovering inches above her skin. "Damn. I put a baby in there."

She gently grabbed his hand and placed it against her stomach. His palm splayed out across her abdomen.

She sucked in a breath at the heat of his fingers."You're not mad?"

He looked up. "No. But I will be if you don't answer the question. You gonna make an honest man of me or not?"

Smiling, she stuck out her hand and wiggled her fingers. "I'm going to make you so honest your head will explode."

He slipped the ring on her finger and kissed her knuckles. "Let's fly to Vegas."

Clarke blinked. "What?"

"I know you probably want a big wedding, and we can do that later, but let's get married now."

She placed hands to her head. Why was she hesitating when this is what she'd wanted all along? Everything was just happening so fast, and she'd made so many wrong decisions in the past. "You mean like—tomorrow?"

He nodded. "Yeah. If we do it here, we have a three-day waiting period." His hands slid up her neck to cup her face. "I don't want to wait."

She quirked an eyebrow and looked at him again, trying to discern any hesitation in his face. "You're sure? Absolutely sure?"

"Without a doubt." He covered her mouth with his, and when he broke the kiss, whispered against her lips, "Stop overthinking it. This is what we've both wanted from the beginning, so just say yes."

"We?" She echoed.

"Yeah," he pressed his forehead to hers. "While you've tried to figure out who you are, I've questioned if your feelings for me were real or part of the boyfriend confusion." He sucked in a breath. "But it's me you love, right?"

"Yes," she breathed. Without a doubt.

He grinned and loosed the breath he'd been holding. "Okay, now that's settled, how about Vegas?"

She threw her arms around him. "Yes, I don't want to wait either."

He pulled her into his arms. "I love you, Clarke Griffin."

She kissed him with a fierceness that had him gasping for breath. She leaned away and stared up at him. "Take your clothes off. My hormones are raging and all I think about is sex."

He chuckled. "With me, I hope."

"Yes, with you, silly." While he lifted his shirt over his head, she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans.

He fisted the hem of her sweater and inched it up, but she stopped him. "No. I want to keep my clothes on."

He rocked back on his heels. "Why?"

She ducked her head. "Just because."

"I want to see you."

She turned her head. "I don't look so good."

"Clarke. You fought for your life," he pressed his lips to a bruise at her hip. "For our babies life." His lips trailed to her stomach. "Please." She nodded her head and he lifted her sweater inch by inch, gauging her reaction, and she let him pull it over her head.

"Holy shit." He trailed his fingers across the bruises on her throat. "That son of a bitch. I should cut out his fucking heart." Then his eyes tracked down her body. "This is my fault. If I'd stayed, I could have protected you."

"No," she grasped his shoulders. "You couldn't have. He's insane and would have found a way to get to me. He even bought the property that joins yours. He'd been spying on us. The stuff I've learned about him in the last few days terrifies me."

He shook his head, his fingers smooth as he traced a path up and down her spine. "From what Kane said, you're not the only one to be taken in by him. There's a list of people he's swindled, manipulated, and killed. Death penalty or not, he'll never see freedom again."

She leaned in to him. "You're right, you know. I got lost so you could find me."

He took her in his arms and kissed her. Finally, the curse was lifted.

* * *

 **REUNIIIIIITED AND IT FEEELS SOOOOO GOOOODDDDD**

 **ahem.**

 **OKAY. we are almost finished. just a short epilogue to go that I'll post on saturday.**

 **let me know what you loved/hated (about the fic in general or the chap, whichever).**

 **you guys rock & thank you to everyone whose left me comments, I love love love seeing a new notif in my inbox.**


	29. Epilogue

For the last couple of days, Clarke splurged on self-help books and audio tapes on parenting. In a few months, she'd be a _mother_. Even the word made her queasy. Having to be responsible for another human's welfare and safety terrified her. How could she pull that off? She hadn't even done such a hot job keeping herself safe.

She perished the thought. There was so much to be happy about. Like today, her godfather's wedding. What should have been a high point, dimmed all to a blur. Vows said, rice thrown, bouquet tossed - into Monty's arms. That's all she remembered.

She took another look at the floral arrangements. Cotton-candy peonies, buttery ranunculus, snowy hydrangeas, and the intoxicating fragrance of sweet pea scented the air. As if she wasn't already emotional enough, the scene moved her to the point of tears. She squeezed her eyes shut to keep them at bay.

She wasn't sad. Quite the contrary. There was nothing more joyous than two people pledging their love. Finding their life partner. Knowing they'd never be alone. Someone to always have their back.

Her dad used to say a person could find good in everything—if they looked hard enough. And Clarke had tried. On the positive side, Finn was going to jail, but she had to testify. Lincoln was safe for now but wasn't coming home anytime soon. In a month, Octavia would graduate high school, and leave sooner than expected. And now, Clarke had a secret to keep. She hated that.

Bellamy must have sensed Clarke's uneasiness. From behind, he snaked his arms around her waist, rested his chin on her shoulder, and pressed his palms flat against her baby bump. "The whole family is here. I think this is a good—"

She cut him off. "Don't even think about it. Today is all about your mother and Marcus. We're not going to spoil it."

"Spoil what?" Wells asked.

Clarke turned to glare at him. "None of your beeswax."

He frowned. "Who pissed in your wheaties?"

"Nothing." If she knew anything about Wells, it was he'd never let a subject drop until he got an answer.

He glanced around the room. "I'm going to get cake. Want me to bring you a piece?"

"No. I'm watching my waistline."

Wells smiled and patted her belly. "Good luck with that." Then he walked away.

Bellamy leaned down to whisper in Clarke's ear. "I thought of more names."

She backed away and eyed him. "I hope they're better than the last two. Because I'm not naming a child Smith or Wesson."

He laughed. "No. These are serious. They sound good with Blake. What about August and Jacob?"

Errant tears spilled down her cheeks.

He took her in his arms and pulled her tight. "Oh, baby. Don't cry. It'll be all right."

"Are you sure? I was just getting used to having a baby and now I find out there's two of them. I've never been a mother. What if I'm not good at it? What if I can't handle two? I couldn't even keep a fish alive."

He tilted her face up and gazed into her eyes. "But you're happy about the news, right?"

"Of course, I am. It's just an adjustment. We'll have to buy two of everything. Not to mention they'll be starting college at the same time. That's a huge expense. And I've never stuck with anything before."

He laughed. "You've got me. How about we postpone the worry until after the reception. Then, I'll worry right along with you."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're making fun of me."

"Little bit," he grinned. "Won't you reconsider taking this opportunity to let everyone know what a stud I am." He laid both hands on her belly and leaned his forehead to hers. "I put _two_ babies in there."

Clarke rolled her eyes, smiling.

"You did _what_?"

Clarke whirled around to face Wells again. "Stop sneaking up on us!"

"I'm not!" He held his hands up in mock surrender. 'It's a reception. I'm mingling." He focused on Bellamy. "Did I hear you right? Two?"

Bellamy nodded.

Clarke narrowed her eyes, then turned to Wells, ready to object, but it was too late.

He reeled around and threw his hands in the air. "Hey, everybody! Clarke's having twins!"

She shook her head. So much for keeping a secret.

Bellamy wound his arms around her middle again. "Sorry."

She pushed him away and pinned him with her gaze. "Liar."

"You're right. Okay, but what about Madi and Ethan?"

She quirked an eyebrow. He had been combing baby name websites for perfect names since he found out they were having twins. "You're not the least bit worried about any of this, are you?"

"Why would I be?" He rubbed her stomach. "Our kids have two parents who love them more than anything. Everything's going to be okay."

She bit her lip, unconvinced. "Are you sure?"

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "Would I lie to you?"

* * *

And we are done.

It's bittersweet, ya'll. These stories become my babies over the course of writing and editing and then the nail biting when I finally post them and obsessively check my notifs for comments

Thank you, thank you, to everyone whose read and commented. You guys rock.


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